Letters from Somewhere
by EvvieJo
Summary: Kurt is only 30 years old and he's already a widower. But Blaine wouldn't let him drown in sorrow, so he had left Kurt letters to help him through the grief. - Don't be deceived! There's lots of Klaine and lots of fluff. But it's better not to read it while listening to the Break-Up songs (or any sad songs, just to be on the safe side), so be warned.
1. Letter 1: Whenever I Die

**A/N: **I once told my lovely reviewer of _The __Inevitable Tends to Happen_, BlurtItAllOut, that I'd never ever write a story in which Klaine wouldn't be endgame. I take that back now. Never say never. That was before this idea came to me, forcing me to write it. It doesn't mean that Kurt will find somebody new. No, I don't intend to have another endgame. As far as the story is thought out to be right now, Kurt is single at the end. I can spoil that much, I guess.

I can also say you can expect fluff. Lots of fluff. But also lots of tears and sadness, because ultimately it's a sad fic. But hopeful and lovely at the same time. At least that's what I want it to be.

It might appear that the story is random or disorganised (maybe not the first chapter, but the next ones), but well, there's always a purpose behind that.

There will be an epigraph at the beginning of each chapter, and there's a pattern: I'm using Evanescence lyrics for those. I'm taking advantage of the gigantic amount of dark love- and death-related lyrics they have.

If there are any similarities to another fic, or to the book/movie _PS, I Love You_, they're coincidental. I don't read much fic, but have never seen one like this. When it comes to the book and movie, I read the former a long time ago and don't remember it very clearly, and never saw the latter.

Um, and the fic isn't completed yet, so there's still a chance I won't finish it. I want to though, and I'll try to do it. I'll be updating every week for now, and so far I have enough for at least a couple of months (I've written 12 chapters so far.)

So, enjoy the read!

* * *

**Letter 1: Whenever I Die**

_Catch me as I fall_

_Say you're here and it's all over now_

_Speaking to the atmosphere_

_No one's here and I fall into myself_

_This truth drives me_

_Into madness_

_I know I can stop the pain_

_If I will it all away_

_(Evanescence – _Whisper_)_

The house was so empty. Everything was quiet. No one was playing the grand piano in the living room. No one was laughing. No one was talking. There wasn't even anyone to talk to.

And Kurt felt just like the house, empty. There was nothing left. The love of his life lay buried, six feet under, with a marble headstone over the freshly dug dirt. How horrible it was to see _Blaine Anderson-Hummel, lived for 29 years, beloved husband, son and brother._ But he only saw those words for a few seconds before tears blocked his vision for good.

It had been almost a full year since they came back home from the doctor's with the sentence. Inoperable brain tumour. Nothing left to do, but wait. Wait for Blaine's condition to deteriorate. Wait for the Reaper to come and take Blaine away. They tried to live on as normally as possible. Tried to make the most of the short while they had left together.

But now it was all over. Blaine was gone, and Kurt felt as if it sucked the life out of him too. They had planned to start looking for an adoption agency just before those headaches started. Just before Blaine went for the tests that revealed how serious his condition was.

Everything left to do now was packing up Blaine's things. Kurt was unwilling to do anything that would remove Blaine's presence in his life any further, but he had to do _something_. And being with his husband's things was as close as he could get to being with Blaine. Had he believed there was an afterlife to which Blaine had proceeded… It would have been comforting to know that his husband was somewhere up in the clouds looking down on him and smiling lovingly at him. But no matter how hard he would try, he couldn't believe that. He had tried to after his mother's death, so many years before. He couldn't believe then, an eight-year-old kid, he couldn't believe now, a grown man of thirty.

Kurt entered Blaine's study filled with innumerable sheet music neatly stacked on every available surface. Only the desk was a mess, as it had always been. As if it's owner was just about to come home, give his husband a kiss on the cheek and a hug, as he had for all the years they lived together. Kurt swallowed, trying to stop the tears from filling his eyes again.

He took up a stack of papers, and started looking through them idly. Sheet music. Scribbles all over whatever Blaine was working on. One of the early drafts Blaine had so many of. The final versions of his music were always perfect, without anything that could be considered unnecessary.

He put the papers aside, and moved to another untidy stack of drafts. A patch of red caught his eye when he lifted the sheet music. A small rectangular box lay directly under the papers. Kurt couldn't recall seeing that box before. He picked it up carefully, abandoning the sheet music and all the other objects scattered on the desk.

Only then did he notice there was a sticker on one of shorter ends of the box, saying clearly _Kurt_ in a familiar handwriting. That surprised him even more. Why would there be a box with his name on it on Blaine's desk? Blaine knew very well Kurt never even came near his desk, and neither had Blaine come near Kurt's.

He held up his hand hesitantly to pull the lid, stopping for a second before he proceeded. He still felt like he was crossing a line, as if Blaine would come in and catch him red-handed, messing around with his work stuff.

_He's not here. He's not coming back_, he repeated to himself one more time, and took the lid off the box.

Inside the small cardboard rectangle was a stack of cream-coloured envelopes. Kurt sat down, putting the box in his lap, and flicked one envelope after another. Each carried a date and Kurt's name, all in the same handwriting. Blaine's.

Finally, his hand trembling, he took up the envelope that topped the rest. Unlike the rest, it bore no date; instead of a month and day, it said _Whenever I die_.

His fingers lingered on the writing; it was almost as if he was touching Blaine's hand through the lightly embossed letters. Slowly, very slowly, he opened the envelope and produced a folded piece of paper from inside.

Kurt swallowed, closing his eyes, and opened the letter.

One deep breath more and he opened his eyes.

_Darling, darling Kurt,_

_Maybe what I'm doing now is stupid, or pointless. It may still turn out to be not as bad as the doctor said, right?_

_Anyway, I guess a piece of me has to admit that this is all real, and that these are really my last months on this earth. I know that no matter what I do, it's going to hurt you far deeper than it is ever going to hurt me. I know that I would go insane if I were ever to lose you…_

_But I just have to make sure I've done everything in my power to help you. To cheer you up somehow, even when I'm not going to be around anymore. To remind you of the beautiful moments we got to share in our life together. It's been over ten years, honey! A wonderful decade that no one is ever going to take away from us! No one and nothing._

_So I'll be writing you letters. If you're reading this, I'm probably already gone and you're packing my stuff. Unless for some reason you went into my study and rummaged through my sheet music. In that case, naughty boy! Anyway, you must have found the box. All the letters will be in that box. Read them all, just don't do it in advance! Each of them is dated, so read them on the day given._

_And please, take care of yourself. Not for me, for you. I don't want you to lose yourself because of me._

_And remember, I will love you always and forever. No matter where I am, or if I am anywhere at all – and I know you don't believe I'm in heaven or hell, or wherever else – I will never stop loving you. I might be nowhere, but those letters are coming from somewhere – from the bottom of my heart, if from nowhere else. And my heart is and will always remain yours._

_Don't cry, honey, please._

_I love you,_

_Blaine._


	2. Letter 2: November 9th

**Letter 2: November 9****th**

_Give me a reason to believe that you're gone_

_I see your shadow so I know they're all wrong_

_(Evanescence –_ Even In Death_)_

Summer sun was seeping through the curtains into Kurt's bedroom. It was August, a couple of weeks before they were going back to McKinley, Kurt for his senior, and Blaine for his junior year.

They were lying cosily on the bed, facing each other, silent, not to spoil the magical romantic moment. The house was otherwise empty; Burt and Carole were at work, Finn was at Rachel's. This was the only type of moment they could snuggle without the threat of being caught horizontally on the bed by one of the parents.

They would exchange a kiss from time to time, but mostly they were just enjoying being silent together.

Until the moment when Kurt asked, 'Do you remember when we first met?'

'Sure. When you came to spy on the Warblers, on the main staircase at Dalton.' Blaine barked out a laugh. 'You really wouldn't make a career in the CIA.'

Kurt caught Blaine's hand in his own.

'Yeah, I know. But I meant, do you remember the date?'

Blaine fixed his gaze on the ceiling, trying hard to remember.

'It was November, because it was close to sectionals.'

'You don't remember the day?!' Kurt jumped up on the bed. 'How were you going to remember our anniversary?!'

A judging gaze was stuck to Blaine's face, unwavering. There was no way Kurt would let it go. Anniversaries were important.

'I kinda hoped- you would?' He grimaced, preparing himself for the blow he knew was coming.

And sure enough, a pillow struck his belly a few seconds later.

'I would, you bet I would!' Another thwack to the abdomen. 'But we should both remember things like that!'

He sat back down, panting slightly. He was visibly upset by his boyfriend's short memory.

'So will you tell me, when it was exactly, smartass? I promise not to forget.' Blaine made puppy dog eyes.

Kurt tried to resist the undeniable charm, and tragically failed.

'Fine,' he said, faking unwillingness. 'It was the ninth.'

'November ninth. Okay. Now I'll remember.'

'I'm still mad at you.'

Blaine looked at him from under his dark eyelashes; it was impossible for Kurt to stay angry at him for long. But he still refused to turn his eyes back to Blaine.

'Kurt?'

'Mhm?'

'You do know I love you?' He got up onto all fours, closing in on Kurt, who still insisted on examining his wall very, very thoroughly.

'Mhm.'

'Really? Let me show you.' And he grabbed Kurt by the wrists, tripping him over back to the sheets, and planted a kiss on his lips.

Kurt was soon appeased.

'I love you, too,' he mumbled.

* * *

For the first time in years, Kurt dreaded the ninth of November. The twelve previous years he couldn't wait for the day, knowing Blaine would be there, surprising him with something, whether it was a "happy anniversary" and a single red rose, one year after they met, a song written especially for him four years later, or a trip to Paris two years ago.

On the night of the eighth, Kurt went to bed, feeling the loneliness weighing heavy on his shoulders. He placed Blaine's letter on the nightstand, intending to read it first thing after waking up the next morning.

He laid down, flattening the sheets on both sides of his body. He still slept on his side of the bed, leaving Blaine's perfectly intact, no crease to be seen, as if it was waiting for its usual occupant to come home late. Kurt took one more glance at the other half of the bed, as it became a habit of his in the last three weeks. Three weeks filled with emptiness, and loneliness, and impatience to open the next letter.

Even though he could hardly resist tearing the envelope open, he listened to Blaine's instructions. In this way, the letters would at least last for a longer time, and he would have a reason to live another day, and then another, and then another…

Fighting back tears, Kurt closed his eyes. Just a few short hours of oblivious sleep, and he'd be able to read what his husband had written him… Just a little bit of rest from the void that was his life now.

Minutes seeped by, and Kurt's eyelids were squeezed more and more tightly with each one of them. He was trying so hard to get rid of all the thoughts that were rushing into his mind, and simply _sleep._

Images of all the past anniversaries, of the thirteen years in which Blaine had been his life. The time when they decided to walk along Champs Elysees in the middle of the night, and watched the sunrise from under the Eiffel Tower. It had been exactly two years since then… And in the morning, they bought fresh croissants in a tiny bakery, and ate them in the still empty street.

Kurt opened his eyes. The pictures, the memories of times gone forever were a torment. What was he being punished for with torture like that?

He turned onto his side, groaning; this was unbearable. Sleep, peaceful, forgetful, easy sleep was everything he needed. _Everything._ He had to have at least a couple of hours of it, he had to. There was no way of surviving with the films his brain was playing him just to make him more miserable. He had to fall asleep.

But his normally comfortable bed was now a bed of nails. Any position proved to be causing him discomfort after five seconds at most. He fluffed his pillow every two minutes, and with each time, it seemed less and less soft.

At last, after tossing and turning for what must have been an eternity, Kurt glimpsed at the alarm clock on the stand.

Eleven fifty five.

Kurt jumped up. Eleven fifty five. That meant in five minutes it would no longer be November eighth. It would be the ninth, and he'd be able to open the envelope.

He kicked the sheets away, and switched the bedside lamp on. The light showed the cream stationary clearly, lying on the small table exactly the way Kurt had left it before. The neat lettering still said _Kurt, Nov. 9__th_.

He made no movement to pick the envelope up. The only thing he was capable of was peering into the face of the electric clock, and watching the two dots between the two numbers fade and reappear, fade and reappear.

Eleven fifty nine. Fade and reappear. Fade and reappear…

The second all the numbers on the clock turned into zeros, Kurt's hand shot out and grabbed the letter. The envelope creased in his haste, soon to be ripped apart, before it revealed the folded piece of paper.

And something else fell out into Kurt's lap. He picked it up, recognizing something he'd long thought lost for good.

It was a string of photographs taken in a photo booth at a mall back in Lima, on their first anniversary. They were both smiling widely, with their arms around each other or kissing in front of the camera, Kurt still holding the rose Blaine had given him in his hand.

Kurt found himself smiling unconsciously over those silly cheap pictures of a past long since passed. He put the photos down on the nightstand carefully, and unfolded the letter.

_Darling, darling Kurt,_

_I promised to never forget our anniversaries, and I'm going to keep that promise, for as long as I can. I know it's not going to be the same now, when I'm not there, but still…_

_Happy anniversary, honey! It's been a long time, so long I sometimes have to pinch myself. But on the other hand, I feel like I've known you forever, like there was never a time when I didn't know you existed. It's so hard to believe that I spent 16 years on this planet without ever setting my eyes on you! How did I manage without you?_

_Which is why I can't even begin to imagine what you have to be feeling now… And I wish I could change something, but there is so little I can do._

_So try not to think of me as gone forever. Just forget I'm not there, just for this one day. If you want to think about me, think about the good times we shared, there were so many of them!_

_And I suppose you already found the photos. I know, we thought they got lost during the move into the house. But I found them! I was looking through some of my old compositions and found them, stuck in between sheet music. I have no idea how they got there._

_So, please, this year, spend our anniversary reliving those moments. I can't give you any more like them, so just look at those pictures and remember how happy we were. Then and on the following eleven ninths of November._

_I love you,_

_Blaine._

* * *

**A/N:** I thought I wouldn't update this story until next Sunday, but I changed my mind. I've been writing chapter 14 tonight and thought that those chapters are so short that I could update the story more often. At least as long as I have more chapters pretty much in the ready.

Anyhow, feedback is always greatly appreciated.


	3. Letter 3: November 28th

**Letter 3: November 28****th**

_I will wander till the end of time_

_torn away from you_

_(Evanescence –_ My Heart Is Broken_)_

A chilly wind rustled in the last few brownish leaves remaining attached to the branches of the trees in Central Park. The leaves that littered the pavements here and there, were drenched with last night's rain. Now the scary looking clouds that lingered until morning, were scattering in haste, revealing a low-hanging late November sun.

The park was quite peaceful; some tourists riding in the horse-driven old-style carriages, some people with dogs on their leashes, some couples holding hands.

Among those couples were Kurt and Blaine, their fingers intertwined, their lips curled upwards in identical expressions. They were taking an unusually long lunch break, and decided to take a walk; they both loved Central Park, and it had been months since they had a moment to simply enjoy it.

They passed the Metropolitan Museum of Art, and then the Turtle Pond, hardly speaking at all, only relishing the warmth of the hand they had grasped in their own, and the streaks of sunlight that managed to shine through the dispersing clouds.

Kurt rummaged in his pocket for a moment and produced a paper bag of peanuts, making his husband raise his eyebrows.

'It's for the squirrels,' explained Kurt, as if he was stating something obvious.

'Right.'

Blaine couldn't resist, but smile and bite his lip to hide it.

'Hey! Don't laugh!'

'I'm not laughing,' chuckled Blaine, no longer able to stop himself.

'Ha, ha, that's really funny.'

Trying to keep a straight face, Blaine turned and stepped in Kurt's way, putting his free hand on the small of his husband's back.

'No, actually, it's not funny. It's adorable.'

Kurt looked up, his face lit up, and he stopped pouting.

'Well, _someone_ once told me I was adorable, so…'

'I wonder who that was?,' Blaine said, leaning forward to kiss Kurt's lips.

They each grabbed a handful of peanuts, and whenever a squirrel showed up, they would approach it carefully, and the tiny animal would run to them, slightly wary, but quite fretless, and garb a nut from their open hands.

Once, Kurt extended his hand, reaching to stroke the little head of a beautiful maroon-coloured squirrel, and the creature darted away, leaving him disappointed.

'Honey, squirrels aren't dogs,' said Blaine gently.

'I know. But it was so cute, and fluffy.' He shrugged with a sigh.

Blaine wrapped an arm around Kurt's shoulders, leading him on.

'Come on, we'll find more squirrels to feed.'

* * *

The day was cold, the sky overcast with grey heavy clouds, threatening to release a flood at any second. Kurt pushed his hands deeper into his coat's pockets.

The chill drove most of the usual visitors away from Central Park; the wind, and the clouds, together with the quickly approaching darkness made the place slightly less inviting then normally. November afternoons weren't always the perfect time for walks.

But Kurt had been there since morning. He had left the house in Upper East Side before nine, and he'd come to Central Park, where he had been wandering ever since. He fed squirrels, recalling how he used to do it with Blaine, and feeling as if his heart was imploding within his chest. _What was the use of coming here alone?_, he started to wonder. Central Park was _their_ place, not his. When Blaine was still there with him, those idle walks around the enormous park were a rare joy, that made his heart flutter. They always made him feel like he was seventeen again, in love for the first time. Really in love. Consumed by the love he felt towards this hazel-eyed stunning boy with a helmet of carefully gelled hair, and those sweet, silly bowties. Even though Blaine had long since stopped using so much gel, and toned down his wardrobe, by dropping some of the most fabulous of his bowties.

Even though Kurt himself hadn't been that seventeen-year-old for a long, long time.

And now the bowties, and the black curls were gone entirely, together with their owner, leaving Kurt alone in Central Park, his hair disheveled by the wind and lack of hairspray, his heart aching with every beat, half of the organ apparently gone. How could it still even function?

Kurt sat on an empty bench, somewhere between the Turtle Pond and the Lake, and slipped his hand to the inside pocket of his coat. The letter was still there, the paper crisp, the handwriting tangible.

He took it out, flattening the piece of paper on his knee.

_Darling, darling Kurt,_

_I could bet you've been cooped up at home lately, am I right? And probably you don't feel like going out much, but do, please, do. I don't want you to isolate yourself._

_You love Central Park as much as I do, or maybe even more. You certainly love squirrels more than I ever did._

_So go out, take a walk, like we used to. You always loved those walks. The weather's probably awful now, but do it, no matter how cold it is. Bundle up and off you go. And get some nuts for the squirrels, and say hi from me. Maybe they still remember me? They definitely remember you, I don't think there ever was anybody else who gave them so much food!_

_Have a nice time in the park, and don't forget a scarf! Remember, how you got a cold once a few years ago, when we went out walking, and you didn't have a scarf? This time I wouldn't be able to get you tea to bed, so take that damn scarf!_

_I love you,_

_Blaine._

He'd already read the letter five times; the previous two letters he had memorized, each word, each comma, each curve of the handwriting. Now he was doing the same with this one, staring intently at the piece of stiff cream paper.

A soft rustle somewhere to his left distracted Kurt's thoughts. He glanced to the side, and saw a squirrel watching him closely, standing on its rear legs, the front paws lifted from the ground. Kurt reached into his pocket to retrieve the remainder of the nuts he had brought with him; the animal didn't even flinch.

When Kurt's extended hand stopped a few inches from the squirrel, it caught the nuts hastily with its paws, and returned to staring at him. Kurt frowned; they never stayed this long, they always took the food and ran for it. So very slowly, and very hesitantly, he lifted his still reaching hand to touch the top of the squirrel's head.

And instead of instantly flinching away and fleeing, the tiny furry animal squinted a little, like a cat would.

Kurt withdrew his hand, a small, unconscious smile arching his lips.

Now he could go home.

* * *

**A/N:** The next chapter's coming in a couple of days, I suppose. I'm struggling now to try and finish this story, while writing another one. So far, I think I'm succeeding. Some five chapters or so to go. Maybe more, we'll see.

And I'm getting close to finishing posting my first Klaine fic, _The Inevitable Tends to Happen_, you can check that out, if you want to.


	4. Letter 4: December 13th

**Letter 4: December 13****th**

_When you cried I'd wipe away all of your tears_

_When you'd scream I'd fight away all of your fears_

_I held your hand through all of these years_

_But you still have all of me_

_(Evanescence – _My Immortal_)_

Kurt thought the set in the building of the local PBS station looked ridiculous. The walls ended somewhere mid-air, without a ceiling, whose place was taken by wires, cables, and a metal scaffolding. Not to mention the fact that everything was made out of cardboard, and no matter how hard he tried to convince himself it looked believable, like scene decorations in theatre, he couldn't. He only hoped that shooting in black and white will do the trick and make everything as fabulous as it would be in an actual chalet in the Swiss Alps, if he and Blaine were to be hosts.

The girls were bustling around the mirrors, putting finishing touches on their make-up or checking their hair. Blaine was among them, trying to apply an additional layer of gel onto his curls over Mercedes' shoulder.

Kurt kept staring at Blaine from his spot next to the door to the fake chalet, until his boyfriend finally turned around to beam at him, and walked back to him.

'What is it? Nervous again?'

'No… It's just- I have to introduce you. And I'm a little afraid that calling you my _boyfriend_-'

'Which is what I am.'

'-might be a little too much for Western Ohio.' Kurt grimaced. 'I mean, I don't think they're not going to figure it out anyway, but why rub it in their faces?'

Blaine nodded

'I agree. At least as long as I'm still your boyfriend.'

Kurt sent him a grateful smile.

'Thanks. And I would never give up a boyfriend like you.' He leaned forward to give Blaine a peck on the lips. Nobody was even looking in their direction, busy with their make-ups and lightning, and cameras.

'So, who am I going to be today?'

Kurt took a moment to consider his options.

'What would you say to "best friend and holiday roommate?"'

'Hm, "holiday roommate" sounds sexy,' purred Blaine right next to Kurt's ear, causing him to blush deep scarlet.

* * *

It was a lovely way to initiate the Christmas holidays, an afternoon at his house, alone with Blaine. Kurt was sitting cross-legged on his bed, his eyes glued to the paper ring circling his right middle finger, while Blaine couldn't stop watching him, as he was lying there, propped on his elbow. The tiny arch Kurt's lips made proved to him it was a good way to celebrate this Christmas.

Their first Christmas together.

'Blaine?' Kurt raised his eyes at Blaine, his smile fading. 'Why did you give me this ring? I mean, it's not that I'm not on cloud nine right now, I am, but- Did you need a proof that I love you?'

Blaine sat up and took Kurt's hands into his own.

'No. No, I know you love me, I have no doubts about that.' Kurt had dropped his gaze to their hands, so Blaine leaned to make him look back at him. 'It's just that, when we were shooting the special- I started wondering- We're boyfriends, right? But doesn't it sound a little- I don't know- childish? You mean so much more to me than can be contained in that word.'

Kurt's smile started creeping back onto his face, lighting it up.

'So what are we now? Fiancés?'

Blaine chuckled.

'Not exactly. What I had in mind was that we're soul mates.'

* * *

The launch of Kurt's first clothing line took place eight years later, when New York City was already adorned in Christmas lights, and it snowed from time to time, leaving thin layers of white on the sidewalks and streets. Despite Kurt fidgeting, twitching and obsessing over every tiny detail that wasn't _just perfect_, the show went well, and all of his former colleagues from Vogue congratulated him on the designs.

And then the fashion reporters started queuing to get him to comment on camera. Blaine didn't leave him for a second, standing by his side and whispering encouraging clichés into his husband's ear.

'What is your greatest inspiration, Kurt?,' came one of the numerous questions.

Kurt took a short, loving glimpse at Blaine, before answering.

'It's not what, but who.' He slipped his hand in Blaine's. 'Blaine, my husband and soul mate.'

* * *

This time Kurt slept relatively well. But once he woke up before eight, there was no chance of getting back to sleep. The morning was gray and cold, with clouds hanging so low they seemed ready to swallow some of the tallest buildings in Manhattan.

Although his fingers tingled at the thought of tearing the next envelope open, Kurt decided to wait just a little bit longer. He wrapped his thick, soft bathrobe tightly around his body, lit a fire in the living room fireplace, and made himself a cup of steaming tea. Only then did he proceed to curl up into a ball on the leather sofa next to the fireplace, and retrieved the letter from the pocket of his bathrobe.

With one more deep breath, Kurt opened the fourth envelope.

_Darling, darling Kurt,_

_I just realized I never really thanked you. You are the most important person in my life, and yet I never got around to say that to you._

_Thank you for being there for me, for better or worse, in sickness and in health. Few people are truly capable of that, and I had the great fortune of meeting one of them, loving him, AND getting him to love me back. That's a blessing I still find difficult to grasp. It's so overwhelming._

_Thank you for being my best friend. Since the moment we met, even before I came to my senses and fell in love with you, you've been the greatest friend anyone could ever hope for. Sure, we've had our crises and rough patches, but – well, who doesn't have them? Point is, we are stronger than that._

_Thank you for giving me the most beautiful love story I could ever dream of. Maybe no one would want to shoot a movie based on our lives, but hell, it's not what matters. What matters is that we found each other, we love each other, and we would never abandon each other._

_And thank you, thank you a thousand times, for teaching me what it's like to have a soul mate. I really feel sometimes like a piece of my soul is within you, and a piece of yours within me. We are two halves of the same apple, no matter how cheesy that might sound. And that's the most wonderful, most magical thing that's ever happened to me._

_Look forward to another letter around Christmas!_

_I love you,_

_Blaine._

Kurt found himself clutching his heart, his eyes flooded with tears that refused to fall. The emptiness that he'd been feeling since Blaine's death was finally defined; a fragment of his being died along with Blaine.

But simultaneously, a strange warmth arose next to the pain in his chest. Because a piece of Blaine was still alive in him.

* * *

**A/N: **Sorry for updating so randomly. I have to figure out a schedule for updating this and _Unintended_, one that I could keep up with. But I am getting close to finishing writing _Letters from Somewhere_, I have only some four or five chapters left to write.

And any form of feedback is highly appreciated!


	5. Letter 5: December 25th

**Letter 5: December 25****th**

_If only night could hold you where I can see you my love_

_Then let me never ever wake again_

_(Evanescence –_ Before the Dawn_)_

Kurt slipped into the house as quietly as humanly possible. Midnight had passed a good quarter ago, and he was sure Blaine was already asleep. For the first time in his life, Kurt thought he hated his job. The New Year's charity show he was preparing was taking every second he had, tearing him apart from his husband even on Christmas Eve, when he had promised to come home early.

Taking a couple of steps into the hall and unbuttoning his woolen coat that he had designed for himself, he noticed a flickering orange light on the opposite wall of the open living room.

And then, the sounds of piano started streaming out. Familiar sounds of a familiar song.

And before he knew it, the coat was thrown aside, and he began singing, just to be joined in by Blaine's voice.

Their voices merged as perfectly as that one cold evening back in Dalton.

Blaine turned his head to sent his husband a smile with the next '_Baby, it's cold outside_', and Kurt leaned to kiss his forehead between his lines, and encircled his shoulders with his arms.

It could be freezing outside, but Kurt's insides were melting, heated up by Blaine's loving presence. And it ceased to matter that he was late, or that he had barely slept in the last couple of weeks. Blaine was there, and he wasn't mad at him. And they were singing that silly song that held a special place in their hearts because of that one night so long ago. Their first duet.

Blaine's fingers struck the final notes, and he turned to Kurt, grasping his hands in his own.

'Merry Christmas, honey.'

'Merry Christmas.'

And soon enough all their clothes fell to the floor, and they fell into each other's arms, kissing fiercely, as if they had never tasted the other before. And it was true of every time they made love. They never got tired or bored with one another.

And that night, when Kurt had fallen asleep contentedly on the sofa, wrapped only in a blanket Blaine had pulled over them to keep them warm, Blaine resisted sleep to stop for a moment and take in the miracle that was his husband.

He studied the gentle features of his face, the upturned nose and the rosy cheeks, the light curves of the torso, the delicate hands. The hair that got utterly disheveled in the heat of passion, and was now sweaty and stuck to Kurt's forehead.

Blaine felt as if the love he felt towards this godlike creature lying by his side was almost causing his heart to explode. He traced his fingers down Kurt's sternum over his exposed skin, very lightly, careful not to wake him, feeling the peaceful, rhythmic beating of his heart, so unlike the rapid drumming noise filling his own chest and ears.

_I'm so happy I could die_, he thought.

* * *

The first thing that broke through the heavy haze of Kurt's sleep the next day, was the faint light of a winter morning and the beginning notes of _Deck the Halls_ being played on the grand piano. A groan escaped his mouth, as he stretched on the sofa, almost letting the blanket slip to the floor. He snatched it to wrap it around himself, as Blaine sent him a smile, never breaking the song.

Kurt propped himself on his elbow, watching his half-naked husband play. It was a wonderful view; how even the tiniest muscles on his back could be spotted, while his hands danced over the keyboard, how his curls hung over his forehead, how every upward twitch of his mouth released a myriad of sparkles in his eyes.

The song ended with a peal of laughter from the performer, who jumped up from the bench to give a deep bow, before giving his husband a good morning kiss.

'We've got a tree to decorate,' he murmured a few millimeters from Kurt's lips.

'You could've done it without me.'

'No, I couldn't. It wouldn't have been the same without you.'

Kurt gave Blaine a peck on the lips.

'Well, it's not like I'm some Christmas decoration.'

'Oh, not _some_ Christmas decoration. You're my _favourite _Christmas decoration.'

* * *

Kurt wished he could fall asleep again. Getting up at seven a.m. on Christmas morning wasn't pleasant in the slightest, when there was no one lying next to him. So after twenty minutes of unsuccessful attempts at sleep, he lifted his eyelids unwillingly. The subdued light creeping into his bedroom reminded him of Christmas two years ago, when they spent the entire Christmas morning decorating the tree and making out.

But now there was just emptiness. No tree, no decorations, no Blaine. Kurt stroked the sheets, where his husband used to be, where he _should have been_.

And then he remembered. There was something. The letter.

He had left it on the windowsill, and now he leaped out of bed in that direction, longing for this message from his husband, no matter what it was.

He ripped the envelope open.

_Darling, darling Kurt,_

_Merry Christmas, honey!_

_I know it's probably not the merriest of Christmases, but well, I want you to be happy. You know that, right? I've always wanted nothing but your happiness._

_And if you still haven't decorated the tree, go do it now! I know, it's not going to be as fun as it used to be. (Remember the Christmas last year? That is, two years ago for you now. That was the best Christmas morning of my life. Including the one when I was seven and my parents got me a puppy.)_

_I bet you're going to Finn and Rachel's for Christmas dinner. Then remember not to be late, and I'm sorry I can't help you wrap the presents. And wear something nice! Maybe that scarf I gave you this year? (Last year, that is.)_

_I love you,_

_Blaine._


	6. Letter 6: December 31st

**Letter 6: December 31****st**

_Hello I'm still here_

_All that's left of yesterday_

_(Evanescence – _Hello_)_

It was Kurt's first ever New Year's Eve Vogue party. When he was an intern, he would only hear of the fancy banquets organized for the amusement of Vogue employees and some of the more sociable of the New York fashion world. And this time, this group included him. At the end of November, Kurt had found a crisp, elegant invitation on his desk, and he had squealed with excitement. That was one of the things he had been looking forward to since he landed that internship. Those classy parties filled with fabulously dressed people, proper champagne, canapés and talk about fashion.

But when they entered the gallery, where those New Year's banquets were annually held, it felt less dreamlike than he'd imagined. People were scattered all over the gigantic space, engaged in quiet conversation, sipping their drinks, their faces pleasantly blank. Kurt squeezed Blaine's hand just a little bit tighter.

The incredibly high white walls that seemed to lack a ceiling altogether – it was many feet above, and made of glass and metal – gave him the feeling that he'd just entered a palace of ice, despite the fact that the temperature in the room was surprisingly high. Black and white photographs of unidentifiable objects were hung randomly, surrounded by great spaces of empty walls.

Everything was as fancy as Kurt had imagined, maybe a little _too _fancy. There were people all around, people he knew from work, but somehow now they seemed like mannequins; smiling with their lips alone, pretty hangers for those overpriced designer clothes they were all wearing.

'Kurt!,' a high girly voice came from the right. When he looked around, he noticed Holly, who was like him, one of the stylists for the magazine, but had worked there for over a year longer. She was a rather short blonde with huge, astonishingly dark eyes, and had a judgemental personality, never failing to tell precisely what she thought. Now she was dragging behind her an already tipsy man more or less her age.

'Holly!,' Kurt exclaimed, relieved that at least there would be someone to talk to, no matter how mean they usually were. 'You look stunning.' He sent her a smile, trying to mask the tiny white lie he'd just sold her; in truth the tightly fitting dress made Holly look ten pounds fatter, and gave the impression that her ass had been transplanted from .

'Thank you.' She batted her eyelashes. 'You look good, too, even though that tie is last season. But you still kinda work it.'

Kurt clenched his teeth, forcing a smile.

'Who's your date?,' he asked with an additional coat of sugar on his voice.

'Oh, that's Brad. Never mind him.' She glanced at Blaine, who was standing idly by all the while. 'Who's that cutie, though?'

This time Kurt's smile wasn't forced at all.

'This is Blaine, my husband. Holly, Blaine. Blaine, Holly. You know Holly, I've mentioned her to you?'

Blaine nodded shortly, grinning courteously at Holly, who seemed slightly startled.

'Your husband?'

'Yes, Holly. Husband. I'm gay, this is New York, it's legal?'

'Right, sure. But,' she paused for a second, 'aren't you like, nineteen?'

Kurt raised his eyebrows, trying very hard to curb the mixture of amusement and resentment he felt. They had already heard that they were too young to get married, usually spiced with the comment that they didn't have to worry about getting pregnant while there was still time.

'Actually, Holly, I'm twenty-one. And we got married in the summer. _Last _summer.'

'Okay. Whatever. I'm moving along, if you don't mind. Girl's gotta mingle.'

They sent each other one last overly sweet smiles, and she scurried away, tagging her date along.

'You really like calling me your husband, don't you?,' said Blaine, the corners of his lips twitching up.

'You bet I do.' Kurt grabbed a couple of glasses of wine from a waiter, and passed one to Blaine. 'We're going to need the booze.'

They chuckled and clinked their glasses together.

'Alright, husband, let's go mingle.' And Kurt led Blaine deeper into the white cold room.

Kurt was standing alone by the cold buffet, sipping white wine from his glass, and watching everybody else exchanging more or less honest compliments and newest pieces of gossip. It was torture coming here. It hadn't been much of a pleasure when there was Blaine by his side, and now, without him to keep him company and joke about others in a rushed whisper, it was plain torment.

But he had decided to go, even though it had been four years since he left Vogue, and he hadn't attended the party last year (they stayed home, cherishing what they knew would be their last New Year's Eve together.)

The gallery felt as unfamiliar and cold as ever, or maybe even more so. Kurt wished there was a hand in his palm, or an arm around his waist, and a face next to his own. His thoughts started wandering through all those New Year's Eves they had spent together in those thirteen years they'd known each other. There were better ones and worse ones. Those spent back in Lima with the rest of the Glee club, and those spent in New York, just the two of them, their bodies intertwined, their eyes glued together, and those spent at the damn Vogue parties that they hurried to flee from right after the midnight toasts were drunk, just to spend the rest of the night in the warmth of one another's embrace.

'Kurt, oh my god, long time no see!' The shrill voice pulled him out of his reverie.

Holly – or at least someone who looked like Holly after a bad lipjob – was standing in front of him, with another of the long list of her thoroughly bored dates on her arm.

'Oh, hi, Holly. Nice to see you.' He attempted to smile, but the result was miserable.

'Where's that sexy hubby of yours, huh?' She took a gulp of cocktail from her glass.

Kurt's breath hitched, his lips trembled, so he pursed them, trying to fight back tears. He couldn't have a meltdown in front of all these people. Mustering as much of his strength as he could, he inhaled deeply.

'Blaine's gone.'

'Ugh, I told you you two were too young to get married! But, you know, divorce isn't the end of the world,' Holly kept prattling on, entirely oblivious to the flood of pain raising within Kurt. 'You could lose that ring already.'

Another steadying breath.

'No, Holly,' he said through clenched teeth. 'I mean that Blaine is dead.'

'Oh.'

By now Kurt was seething, rage and grief filling his entire body in equal measure. He left his unfinished wine on the buffet, and stormed out, leaving a speechless Holly in the middle of the room.

He didn't stop until he was a dozen blocks away. His hand instinctively touched the left side of his chest, where in an inside pocket of his jacket, Blaine's letter was hidden, folded neatly.

He'd already memorized its contents, but he pulled it out, just to look at the familiar handwriting for a semblance of Blaine's presence on this lonely, lonely night.

_Darling, darling Kurt,_

_I know this is going to be different, SO different for you. It might sound cruel and unfeeling, but there is a part of me that wants for it to be _worse_ without me. I know, that's terribly selfish. But I like to think that you love me as much as I love you, and I'm certain it would be hell to live without you._

_But I don't want you to stop living just because I'm no longer there with you. And don't sit at home all the time. Work! Go out! I bet you got an invitation to that dreary Vogue party. Go, drink that insanely expensive champagne and raise a glass to a better new year. Be around people._

_I wish I could go there with you and backbite all those stuck-up people._

_Have fun anyway. And don't forget your life isn't over. It's just beginning._

_I love you,_

_Blaine._

* * *

**A/N: **How are you guys holding up after The Break-Up? I'm still a little bit in denial about the whole thing. Well, Klaine are endgame - _have to be endgame_ - anyway, so I'm just waiting for the boys to make up. SOON.

Feedback is very highly appreciated, as always! Next update coming in a few days, I guess.

And tomorrow I'm updating the epilogue to _The Inevitable Tends to Happen_, if any of you have been reading that story.


	7. Letter 7: January 14th

**Letter 7: January 14****th**

_I found a grave_  
_Brushed off the face_  
_Felt your light and_  
_I remember why I know this place_

_(Evanescence – _End of the Dream_)_

A gust of cold winter wind wafted the scent of seasoned chicken from a nearby restaurant. Kurt shivered. Wasn't it absurd, and morbid, to open any sort of establishment of the sort right next to a cemetery?

The weather suited exactly Kurt's mood. It couldn't be more unpleasant; the snow had melted, leaving nothing but mud behind, clouds threatened with rain, and the wind kept on blowing and chilling all those forced to be outside to the bone.

Kurt wished he didn't forget his gloves; one of his hands had to be consistently exposed to the dreadful weather, occupied with a huge bunch of white roses. He hated cemeteries, hated every January 14th, and hated to come here alone. But this year Burt was held up at the tire shop, and called Kurt to apologize and tell him he had to do this alone.

And Kurt simply couldn't ask anyone else to come with him. Rachel and a cemetery? That wasn't a good idea, not at all. Mercedes? They grew a little apart since his transfer to Dalton. Blaine…? No, he couldn't drag the guy he was in love with around a cemetery! Especially, when he had no idea what was really going on between them, and there was a good chance he'd start crying like a baby.

Finally, he turned into the muddy alley he'd visited every year since he was eight. The headstone was there, the tiniest bit darker than the year before. Kurt took his hand out of his coat pocket, and swiped the top of the headstone with his palm. Dead, half-rotten leaves that had remained there since fall fell to the ground noiselessly.

Carefully, as if they were made of glass, he placed the roses under the headstone, reading once again the words he'd known by heart since the day of the funeral.

_Elizabeth Hummel, died too soon, dearest wife and mother._

'Hi, mom,' Kurt muttered. As much as he felt silly doing this, he never failed to talk to her when visiting. It made him feel just for the few short seconds as if she was still beside him. 'I know you can't hear me, but… I love you. And I hope that if you were here- that you'd be proud of me.'

A lonely tear rolled down his cheek, soon to be joined by another, and yet another.

'Why did you have to die on me?'

He sobbed, his whole frame shaking violently, his face now completely drenched with salty moisture. His knees wobbled beneath him, almost causing him to drop to the wet, muddy ground.

'Young man?,' a frail old voice came from behind him. 'Is everything alright?'

Kurt rubbed his eyes to clear his vision and get rid of the remnants of tears. An old, slightly hunched lady was standing on the edge of the asphalt alley a couple of yards away. She must have stopped, alarmed by his sobs.

He nodded hastily.

'I'm fine. No need to worry.' He turned away, squeezing his eyelids shut to prevent another flood of tears. A squishing sound came from behind; the lady apparently wasn't convinced.

'Your mom?,' she asked quietly.

Kurt opened his eyes to look at her; she had an expression full of sadness and sympathy. He nodded, feeling his voice was too weak to deliver the answer.

'I lost my mom early, too, you know.'

'Really?' His voice trembled, barely audible.

'Yes. I used to cry every time I thought about her for the first ten years.'

'Why are you telling me this?'

A small mournful smile stretched the wrinkled face.

'Because at some point I remembered all the good things that had happened. How she taught me to bake, and how she used to play with me, and how she cheered me up after my dog died.' The woman patted him gently on the arm. 'She gave you the greatest gift anyone can give. She gave you life. And she might be gone, but remembering her for the good she left behind here is the best way to commemorate her.'

With a last pat on his shoulder and a smile, the woman left.

And having breathed in deeply and wiped his eyes one more time, Kurt headed to the main gate.

* * *

Even though an early afternoon sun was shining brightly on the pale blue sky, everything around Kurt felt gloomy.

He had spent the beginning of the year busy with work; he finally managed to sit down at his desk and start preparing his fall/winter collection for the next season. For months he barely even visited his office, not to mention actually doing anything useful. The tiny prod Blaine gave him in the New Year's Eve letter motivated him enough to take this small step forwards, towards some sort of semi-normalcy. Because it was clear that nothing would ever be truly normal again.

But today he couldn't focus on anything, and drinking one coffee after another only made him fidget. So, without a word of explanation to his employees, he rushed out, slamming the door, and went straight to the Cyprus Hills Cemetery. It was January 14th, he was in New York, with no chance of getting back to Lima, once he'd gone back to some kind of regular schedule of his everyday duties. Anything of the sort would only disturb the precarious order, making it tumble to the ground all over again.

So he went to the only other place he could think of.

Kurt hadn't come back there since the funeral. What was the point, really? A bunch of flowers that would wither in a couple of days wouldn't make a difference to someone who couldn't enjoy them even for a second anyway. But despite the fact that he'd been there just twice – and both times stuck in a hazy, desperate disbelief – his feet found the way as surely as if they were led on by a magical force.

The headstone looked exactly the same, save for the ethereal layer of snow topping it. Kurt's breath hitched, as his eyes fell again on the words chiseled in marble.

'Hi, honey,' he choked out, feeling tears coming up into his eyes. He blinked to push them back. 'I know you can't hear me. I just had to come…' A small sad smile arched his mouth. 'But you know all that.'

Kurt's hand instinctively wandered towards his chest pocket, where the latest letter was placed, right over his heart.

'What wouldn't I give to get you back here.' His voice sounded just a little louder than he'd intended.

Suddenly, he realized someone was standing close behind him, and he turned around with one hasty movement.

For a second he thought he was transported back in time to that one afternoon thirteen years ago, in another graveyard, another town, another state, over another grave… A couple of yards away a frail elder woman was standing, rubbing her gloved hands together for warmth and watching Kurt with a compassionate expression.

'A loved one?,' she asked in a small voice that suited perfectly her delicate figure and the wrinkled, dried up skin.

Kurt turned to face the grave again, and gave a short nod.

'My husband,' he added quietly after a few seconds.

A delicately trembling hand grasped and squeezed his for a moment. He raised his eyes on the woman.

'Life goes on. Don't dwell on the past.'

A bitter laugh escaped Kurt's mouth.

'He said exactly the same.' Kurt shook his head. 'But it's not that easy, you know?'

'I do. It's painful and it's hard, but- You have to remember you're still here.'

And with that, she left him standing over the snow-sprinkled grave.

* * *

_Darling, darling Kurt,_

_I know this is a tough day for you. And I wish I could go to Lima with you, and hold your hand, when we go to the cemetery. You need a rock, honey, don't try to deny that. And it's killing me more than that damn thing in my head to know that I won't be there to be your rock._

_Of course, you're strong. You're probably one of the strongest people – if not THE strongest person – I've ever met. But it doesn't mean you don't have moments when you need a shoulder to cry and lean on._

_Just hang in there, okay?_

_You survived losing your mom, you'll survive this. I wish you didn't have to, but well, what do I have to say about this? Not much. No matter how much I might try not to die, die I will. This much, I guess, is already settled._

_And, please, remember, this is not the end of the world. It might seem like the end of your world, but it's not. Things change, worlds change. So will yours. But it will not end. It'll go on turning, just like it had before we met. Only now it will be richer with thirteen years of love, friendship and devotion._

_I love you,_

_Blaine._

* * *

**A/N:** Sorry for posting sad things in those trying times of post-Break-Up tears. But let's remind ourselves that whatever happens now - and whatever happens in this story - our boys are made for each other and will get back together.

No idea when I'm going to update next, it'll be either Thursday or Monday, because I'm going to be off-line, wandering around London from Friday to Monday morning. Yay! Anyhow, I got kinda stuck at writing chapter 18, but I promise you, the story will be finished.


	8. Letter 8: January 30th

**Letter 8: January 30****th**

_Don't cling to me, I swear I can't fix you_

_Still in the dark, can you fix me?_

_Freefall, freefall, all through life_

_(Evanescence – _Weight of the World_)_

The hospital's main entrance slid open before them, as they rushed inside, trying not to slip on the glossy floor. Kurt almost lost his balance, when he took a sudden turn into the left-hand hallway, noticing the board saying _MATERNITY WARD_ in capital letters. Blaine followed him, barely keeping up.

Kurt couldn't understand, why he was told only _after_ his niece was already in this world for an hour? Did they think he was scared of vaginas? Or that he would get more nervous about the whole situation than the father? He was sure he couldn't have been more upset than he was now, feeling entirely left out. He could understand, if Finn or Rachel forgot to call him in the frenzy of labour, but why wouldn't his dad or Carole call? The decision to scold them for that had already been made the second he found out they were both with the fresh parents at the hospital.

On the way, Blaine tried to calm him down, repeating a hundred times that Kurt wouldn't really be of much use, had he been at the hospital. It wasn't Kurt's child that was being pushed out of Rachel's birth canal, so why was he acting like it was? Obviously, he couldn't phrase it quite like that, so he just sighed and kept it to himself. Who knows, maybe if Cooper finally settled down and became a daddy, Blaine would be as excited about becoming an uncle as Kurt was now?

They ran to the nurses' station in the Maternity Ward, Kurt almost completely out of breath, and Blaine hurrying a few yards after him.

'Could you tell me, please, which room is Mrs Berry-Hudson's?,' Kurt panted, clutching the edge of the high counter.

'Are you family?,' the middle-aged stocky woman in blue scrubs eyed him, and then proceeded to Blaine.

'Yes, yes. It's my sister-in-law.' Kurt's breath would probably have come back to normal by now, if not for the excitement that buzzed in his chest. Not being related by blood to the kid didn't make him feel any less like an uncle. Finn and Rachel were family, had been since their sophomore year of high school.

'Room 132.'

With a quick thank you and a goofy smile, Kurt hurried on, not even waiting for Blaine to catch up. And Blaine rolled his eyes, heading after his husband.

They found the right room without a problem, and Kurt knocked lightly on the door, before entering. The single room was packed; all the grandparents and the father were gathered round the bed, on which an exhausted, sweaty Rachel, her hair stuck messily to her face, was sitting, propped on a huge pillow, with a small, blanket-wrapped bundle in her arms.

And once a tiny chubby face peeked out of the folds in Rachel's arms, Kurt forgot all about the late notice, and began to just stare, wide-eyed at the baby.

'Oh my god, Rachel, she is so beautiful!,' he whispered, coming closer to his best friend and his new niece.

'Yeah, I know. She's a little treasure.' Rachel could barely take her loving gaze off her daughter.

'Are you sure she's Finn's, though? Kinda hard to believe he could make something this pretty,' said Kurt playfully, turning his face to his brother, who seemed positively stunned. Everyone laughed, except for Finn, still quite oblivious to anything that wasn't his daughter.

They all fell in love with the tiny dark-haired girl in a matter of minutes.

* * *

That night, Blaine was reading in bed, when Kurt snuggled up to him, making him lose his focus.

'Hm?,' he muttered, keeping his eyes on the pages.

'I want us to have a child.'

'What?' Now Blaine's eyes fell on his husband's face, and he realized it was a serious conversation.

Kurt sighed, fitting his body even closer to Blaine's.

'I want to be a daddy. Maybe not now, but in a few years.'

Blaine nodded solemnly; he knew this topic would come up eventually.

'Are you sure, or is it some sort of surge of paternal feelings after today?'

'I'm sure.' Kurt paused, shifting to have a better view of his husband's face. 'Wait, don't you want us to have kids?'

Blaine laid his book in his lap and took Kurt's hand. Biting his lower lip, he considered how to formulate the answer for a moment.

'You know, they say that people tend to repeat their parents' shortcomings while raising their own kids. Remember that Larkin poem?' Kurt nodded. 'I'm just- afraid I wouldn't be a very good dad. Your parents, your dad especially gave you everything to make you a good parent yourself, but mine- You know it wasn't exactly flowers, rainbows and cotton candy in the Anderson household.' He grimaced at the memory of being constantly overshadowed by Cooper, always treated as the lesser son. It was never an overt agenda of his parents', but he felt it acutely with all the praise given to Cooper, and all the disregard to his own achievements, and all the times his father attempted to "toughen him up" and turn him straight, while his mother pretended to take no notice of that.

A few minutes passed in complete stillness, both husbands immersed deep in their own thoughts.

'You'd be a wonderful father, honey,' said Kurt finally.

'You think so?' Blaine looked into his husband's sparkling, loving eyes.

'Yes. And even if you weren't, I'd be, right?'

Blaine laughed in spite of himself.

'Right.'

* * *

Kurt was shifting his weight from one foot to the other, waiting uneasily on the Hudson doorstep. A huge teddy bear, for which he had made a jacket and a cap himself, was sticking out from under his arm.

This was only another thing he now had to be doing on his own, and he felt unbearably alone, his hand painfully empty, cold from the touch of another hand which was no longer there.

The door opened at last, revealing a panting Rachel, who smiled at Kurt widely.

'Hi! Come in, come in! You're first!'

Kurt had hoped that the sight of his best friend will curb the uneasiness he was feeling, but her chipper self only increased his discomfort, causing his guts to wrench. What was a family gathering, if one of the family was missing? When Blaine was _gone_? There was a gaping hole in what used to be the Hudson-Hummel-Anderson-Berry clan. And Kurt just couldn't ignore it. Christmas dinner was easier, because it was only the Berry-Hudsons and him; the parents and in-laws were back in Lima, so it was possible to persuade himself that everyone is just elsewhere.

But now everyone was coming for little Carole's fourth birthday, and there would be no way to try convince himself that Blaine is simply somewhere else, but will be home, when Kurt gets there…

Kurt entered the hall, taking his coat and shoes off, and Rachel called her daughter to come say hello. The girl ran out of the living room, dressed in a frilly dark red dress, her brown hair flying in motion, a smile on her face and dimples in her cheeks. She looked very much like a miniature Rachel, except her movements were much more like her father's.

'Uncle Kurt!,' she squealed happily the second she saw him.

Kurt smiled faintly, handing the teddy bear to her. The toy was met with an even happier cry from the child, as she hugged him tightly with a wide grin.

'Sweetie, didn't you forget about something?,' Rachel asked.

Carole raised her head from the fluffy shoulder of her new teddy bear.

'Thank you, Uncle Kurt.'

'You're most welcome, sweetheart.' Kurt forced a smile; as much as he loved the kid, the only thing that was truly on his mind was how much he had wanted to have a child with Blaine. How close they were to actually becoming parents, before… Before.

'Kurt, you won't mind if I leave you for a second? I have to check on dinner.'

He shook his head in reply, and followed Carole into the living room, while Rachel returned to the kitchen.

Carole sat down on the floor next to the sofa, where apparently she had been settled before Kurt's arrival, and she put her teddy bear next to her. Kurt watched her as she picked up her crayons and resumed drawing the picture she had abandoned to greet him. With her tongue between her lips, she rubbed a pink crayon fiercely over the sheet of paper. After a moment of silence, Kurt crouched down beside her.

'What are you drawing?,' he asked, studying the big pink triangle with an orange ball topped with yellow attached to it.

'Sleeping Beauty.'

'Oh, right, I can see the resemblance,' he choked out, his breath hitching. He had no idea, what was happening to him; an avalanche seemed to be falling on him out of nowhere, taking all oxygen from him.

He managed to turn away and run out of the room, without drawing Carole's attention to himself. He couldn't have a breakdown in front of the child. Desperately gulping for air, he leant on the wall outside the door, until his legs could hold his weight no longer, and he slid to the ground.

Rachel rushed into the hallway, alarmed by the whizzing sound of Kurt's breath.

'Oh my God, Kurt…'

She ran up to his, encircling him with her arms, and he instinctively grasped her close, shaking and sobbing without tears, that this once failed him for some reason. Maybe his tear ducts had finally dried up?

'Shh, sweetie, it's alright,' Rachel repeated in an attempt to soothe him, which was failing miserably.

'It's- not- alright,' Kurt managed to spit out. 'It- will- NEVER- be- alright.'

Realization crept onto Rachel's face, as she gripped Kurt tighter in her arms.

* * *

It took Rachel ten minutes to calm Kurt down enough to lead him into the kitchen. She settled him at the table and in a few minutes she set a mug of chamomile tea in front of him. Neither of them had spoken a word. Kurt kept his gaze fixed in the tablecloth, and Rachel was watching him closely; she was quite sure he wouldn't lose it again, but she was terribly worried.

'Kurt, talk to me,' she said finally. He didn't even flinch. 'Kurt, please.'

He swallowed and slowly, very slowly turned his head towards her.

'We wanted to have kids,' said Kurt quietly. Rachel nodded; he didn't have to explain who he meant by _we_. 'We were just starting looking for an adoption agency, when…' He waved vaguely in the direction of his head.

Rachel sat down next to him, and took his hand before he could flinch away.

'I know, honey, I know. And you will have kids, you'll find someone, I'm sure of that.'

Kurt shook his head violently.

'No. There won't be anybody else.'

'I know you think that now, but…'

'No!,' he jumped up to his feet, jerking his hand away from Rachel's and almost knocking his chair over. 'How can you think that?! How could _he_ think that?' That last sentence he said in a small desperate voice.

Rachel was puzzled.

'Who?'

'Blaine.' The name felt like razors in his throat. It was too painful to even think it.

'He told you that?'

Instead of answering, Kurt pulled a creased envelope out of his jacket pocket and threw it onto the table, clenching his teeth not to fall apart again.

With uncertain, trembling hands, Rachel picked up the cream stationary. Where normally an address would be, it said _Kurt. Jan. 30__th__._ She glanced at Kurt to make sure he wanted her to see it. He was facing away, pretending to be looking out the window, but his eyes were glassy, lost somewhere far away from the kitchen in SoHo.

Rachel reached into the envelope and took a folded piece of paper out. The handwriting was undeniably Blaine's. She started reading.

_Darling, darling Kurt,_

_Say happy birthday to little Carole for me today! I wish I could be there to see our niece grow up into the beautiful, talented girl I know she is going to be._

_I also know that being around her makes you think about having kids of our own. On the one hand I regret we hadn't gotten round to the adoption process before all of this happened. And I know it was mostly due to my silly stubbornness and my screwed up family. But on the other hand, I'm happy in a way, that we're not putting any kids through the whole drama._

_But then again, I'm leaving you alone, and that's killing me a hundred times more than the cancer._

_Anyway, I need to tell you this: I want you to find someone you could form a family with. Find a guy you'd want to raise kids with. Hopefully, he'd be better father material than I could ever be._

_I only wish for you to be happy, and I know you won't feel truly fulfilled until you are a proud daddy. Just don't forget me in the process, okay?_

_I love you,_

_Blaine._

Rachel folded the letter back and replaced it in the envelope. Then she got up to hug Kurt again, not uttering a word.

* * *

**A/N:** The Larkin poem Blaine mentions is _This Be The Verse_, as some probably figured out. (A personal favourite of mine, and pretty much my life's philosophy.)

So, I'm updating today, and then I'll post chapter 9 on Tuesday, I guess.

And if I made anyone cry again, I'm really sorry! I wish I could add some Kleenex to every chapter just in case.


	9. Letter 9: February 5th

**Letter 9: February 5****th**

_We're leaving here tonight_  
_There's no need to tell anyone_  
_They'd only hold us down_  
_So by the morning light_  
_We'll be half way to anywhere_  
_Where love is more than just your name_

_(Evanescence – _Anywhere_)_

Blaine was torn by three very different emotions. First of all, he was mad at Kurt for making him get up in the middle of the night, without a word of warning or explanation. He was exhausted as it was. The second feeling, increasing in force with every mile they covered, was curiosity; so far he managed only to make out that they were going west, or maybe north-west. And finally, he was relieved that at least for this short time he could focus on something else than the blasted thing growing inside his head with each passing week.

And while Blaine was trying to decide, whether he was more angry or curious, or relieved, Kurt was eyeing him furtively, a tiny smile dancing on his lips. Obviously, he wasn't truly happy; Blaine's disease was an obstacle to any real happiness for him. But he was excited to give his husband a moment away from the city and the worries, and everyday life. He wanted to give Blaine the best birthday of his life.

They stopped on the outskirts of Binghamton to stretch their legs and get coffee and an early breakfast at a gas station. The clear sky in the east was tinged with yellow, betraying the closeness of dawn. Kurt was leaning on the side of the car, sipping his coffee and watching the day birth on the horizon.

'Are you going to tell me, where we're going exactly?,' Blaine asked, blocking Kurt's view of the sky.

Kurt shook his head.

'No way, it's a surprise.'

Blaine took Kurt's cup out of his hands to put it on the roof of the car. When there was no longer any hot beverage in the way, he stepped a little closer to his husband, propping his hands on both sides of Kurt, trapping him.

'Come on,' he said a second before his lips touched Kurt's. The kiss was returned, becoming more and more passionate with each second.

Until finally, Kurt recoiled, giving Blaine a slight push on the chest.

'I'm not telling you.'

'Maybe I'll drive now and you'll have to tell me?'

'You can't drive, you know that.' He grimaced; he had promised himself not to mention Blaine's illness at all during their little excursion. 'It's a surprise, so you can't know.'

Blaine pouted, but stepped back.

And soon they were in the car again, speeding further and further inland.

'We're going to Niagara Falls, right?,' Blaine almost squealed, once they crossed the Canadian border.

'Close.'

Blaine bit his lip; Kurt was now too focused on the road to pay more attention to him. After all, he had never been there before, and he didn't want to get lost in the middle of snowy nowhere.

Within an hour they stopped in a parking lot of a small hotel.

'Here we are.'

Blaine looked around, and saw nothing but the hotel and a few cars scattered on the lot.

'Which is where exactly?'

'St. Catharines. I guess it would be nicer in the spring with all the parks green and all that, but you had to have your birthday in February, so…' Kurt grimaced in feigned discontent.

'But there are falls here, right?,' asked Blaine hopefully.

'Sure, silly. We're going to Niagara Falls, and DeCew Falls, and everything else you want, don't you worry.'

And they spent the whole weekend taking long walks in the snowy parks, admiring the rushing falls, and spending long February nights cuddled together in bed. It felt like a second honeymoon, with the thoughts of Blaine's illness and impending death pushed far into the backs of their minds.

* * *

Kurt's eyes were glued to the calendar hanging on the kitchen wall. He'd been stirring his coffee for at least five minutes, but he didn't fully realize it.

February fifth.

Until last year, there was always a red heart drawn around the five in the calendar. Kurt wouldn't forget, but he liked emphasizing how special the day was for him; the day his other half came into this world to give him his love and the happiness he'd always longed for.

But now there was not heart, the calendar seemed empty. The house was still and silent, save for the clinking of Kurt's spoon in the coffee mug.

Finally, he managed to remove his gaze from the sad page on the wall and onto the envelope lying on the kitchen table.

This time the envelope was different; it was of a slightly different shape, more square than rectangular, bluish in colour and adorned with the emblem of the hotel they had stayed at in St. Catharines. Slowly he ripped the letter open.

_Darling, darling Kurt,_

_I can honestly say this has been the greatest birthday gift anyone has ever given me. Honey, you are the perfect husband. Have I ever told you that before? If not, I'm fixing that mistake right now._

_I'm not even mad anymore about not getting my beauty sleep on Friday. Everything here made it up to me._

_By the way, do you know how cute you look when you're asleep? I can barely concentrate on writing this, because you're lying there, just a few feet away. Your skin seems golden in the light… A truly exquisite view, I assure you._

_Anyhow, I wish there were more birthdays like this one coming. But still, at this moment, I'm simply happy that I got to spend this one here with you._

_I love you,_

_Blaine._

* * *

**A/N:** I'm back! Still exhausted, but very happy

I'm getting closer to finally finishing chapter 18, and proceeding to the two final ones. Next update coming in a few days!


	10. Letter 10: February 14th

**Letter 10: February 14****th**

_Why should I care if they hurt you_  
_Somehow it matters more to me_  
_Than if I were hurting myself_

_(Evanescence – _Give Unto Me_)_

There was nothing better than parents away on Valentine's Day. Or having a boyfriend, whose parents were constantly away, leaving the house to them and their teenage hormones.

Kurt propped himself on his elbows, studying Blaine's face. He had missed him so much while he was recovering. It was impossible to go to the hospital in Columbus to visit as often as he would have wished.

But now Blaine was alright again, right next to him, and staring back, with both his eyes, the eye-patch gone for good.

'I missed you so much,' Kurt muttered, not quite aware if he said it out loud or just thought it.

'I missed you, too,' Blaine answered, his hand wandering to Kurt's face, caressing it.

Kurt shifted to kiss Blaine on the lips. That was another thing he had missed.

'I didn't get you anything.' Kurt grimaced; had he known Blaine would be released from the hospital early, he would have planned things out differently.

'You didn't have to give me anything, dummy,' said Blaine, pulling Kurt closer. 'I didn't get you anything either. Sorry.'

They lay in silence for a while, every breath and every heartbeat synchronized perfectly, as if they were one.

'I got my gift. I got you back.' Kurt raised his eyes at his boyfriend. 'I don't need anything else.' He paused for a second, visibly hesitant about saying something. 'And thank you.'

It puzzled Blaine. He pulled Kurt's chin up to look him in the face.

'What for?'

'For taking that slushie for me. You know Sebastian was aiming at me, not you.' Kurt shivered; the sole thought of that dreadful night and the icy red drink all over Blaine, as he writhed on the concrete floor in agony, made him feel the guilt and pain one more time. 'I could just stay where I was, I didn't have to duck. And you didn't have to go all knight-in-shining-armour on me.'

Blaine never averted his eyes from Kurt's face, as it started turn brightly red. They were lying naked in bed, side by side, their bodies practically intertwined, and Kurt was feeling embarrassed for jumping out of that slushie's way, of all things?

'Don't you want me to be your knight in shining armour?' A playful spark danced in Blaine's eyes.

'Yeah, I do, but…' Miraculously, Kurt's cheeks managed to become even redder.

'But?'

'I- I wish I could be yours too,' he mumbled in response, dropping his eyes.

Blaine chuckled, hugging Kurt more closely to his chest.

'You are. I know that had the situation been reversed, you'd try to protect me.'

'You do?' Kurt's voice was muffled, his mouth almost pressed to his boyfriend's chest.

'I do.'

* * *

Kurt had never been this irritated by all the lovey-dovey crap littering every shop window and counter. The entire city seemed to have caught a serious case of Valentine's Day fever. But no matter how contagious it was, there was no way Kurt would get infected as well. Not this year. Not ever again.

The day lost its purpose for him with Blaine's last heartbeat. Now it was just another day, February 14th held no more meaning than 13th or 15th. The past was the past, now there was nothing left to celebrate.

How could one celebrate the day of love, when the person they love is long dead and buried?

This year there was just one thing to look forward to: the letter.

Apparently, Blaine hadn't thought that Kurt would be unwilling to celebrate Valentine's Day, as he left him a letter bearing the date _Feb. 14__th_ written very clearly on the envelope.

Early in the morning on the 14th, before settling down to work, Kurt picked up the ecru envelope. For a moment he turned it gingerly between his fingers, hesitant. He couldn't wait to read the next letter, but on the other hand, he was starting to think that they stopped him from moving on, giving him a semblance of Blaine's presence, an illusion that his husband had never died.

But Blaine wanted him to read it, so finally, Kurt ripped the paper.

_Darling, darling Kurt,_

_Valentine's Day, huh? I bet it sucks. I couldn't handle getting rejected by a crush on that silly holiday with any dignity at all, I'm not expecting you to be loving all the cheesy heart-shaped decorations._

_But do you remember the Valentine's Day after my eye surgery? We were at my house, being naughty, and you thanked me for standing in the way of that slushie. And you said you wanted to be my knight in shining armor._

_Well, you have been these past few months. Maybe there were no frozen beverages involved, and you didn't have to jump in front of me to save me from anything thrown my way, but you've saved me in more ways than you can imagine._

_All this time, you've never failed me. You've been my rock, no matter how hard it's been for you. I don't know what I would have done, if you weren't here by my side. I'd probably be clinically depressed on top of the whole cancer thing. You're saving the bits of happiness that are still in me in this shitty situation. Not to mention that there's any happiness left only thanks to you. And you keep it alive. You keep me alive. As long as the cancer doesn't beat me, it's you who keeps me breathing._

_Don't get too sad about being alone this Valentine's Day. Please, honey._

_I love you,_

_Blaine._

Kurt pressed the letter to his heart.

No, it wasn't a bad thing to keep reading, to keep reliving the moments they had had with Blaine.

Because no matter what happens now, or when there would be no more letters, he would at least know how lucky he was. How much he was loved.

Blaine was gone, but his love stayed behind. Even if only on pieces of paper.

* * *

**A/N:** I don't remember if I mentioned this: there will be 20 chapters in this story, it's official. As of now, I'm halfway through writing chapter 19, so we're getting closer to the end.

And if you want more Klaine stuff written by yours truly, there's one complete fic and a WIP, so feel free to check them out!


	11. Letter 11: March 2nd

**Letter 11: March 2****nd**

_I've nowhere else to go_  
_But I cannot stay where I don't belong_

_(Evanescence – _Exodus_)_

The beautiful mahogany front door was pushed open, filling their nostrils with a scent of cleanliness – detergent mixed with air-freshener. Kurt couldn't help but let his facial muscles spread his lips in a wide grin. A glance back at Blaine proved their expressions were identical.

'Welcome home, honey,' said Kurt, trying not to start prancing around happily like a child on Christmas morning.

'You too,' replied Blaine, taking Kurt's hand.

They crossed the threshold together.

The hall of their new house in Upper East Side was filled with boxes of things that had been shipped from their tiny apartment in Brooklyn. The apartment they were now finally out of for good. They could afford buying the house thanks to the immense success of Kurt's debut line of clothing.

It was now beginning to feel for Kurt like they were a family. Not just a couple living in a cramped apartment and working hard on their careers. Now they had a house, an actual house that they wanted to make a true warm home for themselves and the children they would one day have.

Kurt stopped in the middle of the hall, inhaling the chemically flavoured scent and taking in the view of the beige walls and dark wood-panelled floor, the stacks of boxes packed to the tops with their lives, their memories and their plans.

They didn't speak; words weren't necessary. They knew exactly what the other was thinking.

A few minutes passed with them standing almost completely still, their hand joined, their eyes wandering around the rooms. A single tear of happiness slipped from the corner of Kurt's eye.

And then, perfectly at the same moment, their gazes turned towards each other, and they smiled again.

Now it was time for unpacking.

* * *

Kurt put the last of Blaine's papers in a box and closed the lid. It had taken him over four months to tidy everything up and stack it in the middle of Blaine's study. It had been an ordeal, the pain of taking care of Blaine's stuff hindered the process.

But now it had to be done, it had to finally be finished. The real estate agent told him to be ready to move soon; after all, the house was in mint condition, with beautiful interiors and the location was great.

He still hadn't decided what to do with Blaine's boxes, as he called them to himself. On the one hand, he wanted to leave the house in order to get over everything, to move on from the overwhelming memories that everything that had ever had anything to do with Blaine evoked. So why not throw all this stuff away, maybe keep a thing or two?

But then, how could he ever do that? How could he just get rid of everything that his husband held dear? It almost felt like spitting on Blaine's grave to even consider that.

The house, though, was something he needed to abandon.

All these months had passed, and he still expected to see Blaine at the piano, turning to him with a smile and his disheveled curls over his forehead. Or leaning on the door frame with a mug of coffee in his hand, looking at him from the threshold of his study, while he was working. Or kissing him on the cheek in the morning to wake him.

The house was as full of Blaine now as it had been before his death, but frighteningly empty at the same time.

Kurt placed the last box on top of a stack of others, immersed in his reverie, when the front door was slammed shut downstairs. Heels clicked on the wooden floor.

'Kurt?!' Rachel was clearly upset. What about Kurt had no idea, and at this moment he didn't really care. He needed to be alone with all this.

'Up here,' he responded with a sigh.

After a series of hurried footsteps on the stairs, Rachel entered the study and crossed her arms over her chest.

'What the hell is this?'

'His stuff,' he answered curtly.

'I mean, why in the world would you be selling the house?!'

She came up to him and pulled his arm to make him face her. He shook her hand off.

'I have to.'

'But _why_, Kurt?'

Kurt didn't respond; he froze with his eyes glued to the small red box still sitting on the otherwise empty desk. For the first time in months he hadn't taken the letter out before the day when he was supposed to read it. And it was already noon and he still hadn't read it. He hadn't even opened that stupid box. He couldn't.

Lately, for some unfathomable reason, the loneliness he felt in the big empty house seemed to be increasing. Why only now, when he was gradually becoming reconciled with the idea of spending the rest of his life alone, instead of spending it with the love of his life, he couldn't understand. But that was the reason why he'd decided to move out of the house, to try and drive away the memories that reminded him of what the world was like when there was someone beside him in that huge cold bed.

And the letters… He was beginning to think they only made things worse.

'Did he tell you to?,' Rachel asked quietly, breaking the silence.

Kurt shook his head.

'Why then?' Her voice was now barely audible.

Another moment of silence followed.

'I can't- I can't stay here,' he said finally. Rachel stayed silent, but he knew she wanted him to continue. He took a step in the direction of Blaine's favourite armchair and sat down, rubbing his temples. 'It's that he- He's everywhere.'

'It was his home too, after all.'

'No, it _is _his home. It's _our _home. Not mine. Something is still missing. _He's_ missing.'

Rachel bit her lip; she couldn't think of any way to make Kurt feel better or change his mind. But a tiny voice in the back of her head told her she had to persuade him to at least give a second thought to moving.

Not knowing what to do, she approached the almost entirely wiped out desk. The only thing left was a rectangular red box, bearing a sticker with Kurt's name on one of the sides. She glanced at Kurt from the corner of her eye, noticing he had buried his face in his hands and wasn't paying any attention to her. She lifted the lid.

Inside there was a stack of maybe a dozen of unopened letters, and the top one said _Kurt. Mar 2__nd__._

'Kurt?'

'Hm?'

'Why haven't you read this letter? It says March 2nd…'

Kurt's head snapped up and he jumped from his seat to tear the envelope from Rachel's hands.

'Kurt…?'

Holding the crumpled letter in one hand, he stormed out of the room and into his bedroom, slamming the door behind him. He slumped to the floor by the bed, panting as if he'd just run the marathon.

With one decisive movement, he opened the letter.

_Darling, darling Kurt,_

_Can you believe that it's four years today since we moved in here? Obviously, when you're reading this, it's already five years. Even more incredible!_

_I don't know about you, but this place is really what I always wanted my home to be like; full of love and warmth. With a real fireplace and pictures of the family on the mantelpiece. And I never loved living anywhere as much as I love living here._

_Now you're probably feeling lonely in here; it's a big house after all. Sorry I can't sneak up on you while you're working anymore. Or kiss you good morning and goodnight. I only spent a couple of weeks alone in the house over the years, and I could hardly stand it! It felt so cold without you here. I hope it's not as bad for you without me._

_But if it is, imagine for a second I'm there. That I'm standing in the doorway with my coffee, looking at you, while you're sketching a new collection, completely consumed by the vision in your head. I used to picture you like that when you were away on business. I know it's all different now, because I'm not coming back, but… Try. Maybe it'll make you feel better._

_I just want to ask you one thing: take care of the house. It's yours now. I'd hate to see you leave it._

_I love you,_

_Blaine._

Kurt squeezed his eyes shut. His resolve wavered and broke.

Yes, it hurt staying in the house. It hurt like a million knives were going into his flesh at the same time. It was torture to wake up and know no one was there to kiss him and hold him.

But would it really be any different elsewhere? Moving would only mean leaving the place where he felt safe and loved for most of the last five years.

He fought back tears and got up. When he pulled the door open, Rachel was standing on the other side, visibly frightened.

'I'm not selling the house.'

* * *

**A/N:** The important piece of news in this note is that _Letters from Somewhere _is finished! I had been sweating over chapters 18 and 19 for a couple of weeks I guess, and then all of the sudden, yesterday evening, I managed to write the end of chapter 19 and the whole final one. Now, I'm only left with some proofreading and minor corrections.

Feedback is highly appreciated, as always!


	12. Letter 12: March 15th

**Letter 12: March 15****th**

_You saw me mourning my love for you_  
_And touched my hand_  
_I knew you loved me then_

_(Evanescence – _Taking Over Me_)_

The tiny café was almost empty; apart from them there was only another couple on the opposite side of the room, and a lonely man in his thirties, half-hidden behind a newspaper. The place felt warm and cosy, especially compared to the chilly mid-March air and drizzle outside. A shiver went down Kurt's spine at the sole thought of getting back out there onto the cold streets of New York.

Blaine was sitting across from him, his lips twitching slightly in a suppressed smile.

'What is it?,' asked Kurt between sips of his deliciously hot coffee.

'Nothing.' Blaine raised his eyes at his boyfriend. 'I just- I always thought you were the one who remembered the anniversaries.'

Kurt's eyebrows shot up. Did he really forget something? His brain started putting everything in order. It was March. March 15th. What happened on March 15th…?

And then the memories from Dalton study hall, the fake jewels littered over the table, the tiny coffin, the smiles, as embarrassed as they were happy, the kisses exchanged over that silly little box. The way they left the school holding hands for the first time. The last kisses by his car, as they couldn't simply say goodbye, even though they were supposed to meet the next morning.

'Oh my god. I really forgot,' said Kurt in disbelief.

'Well, that's a first.' Blaine didn't seem to mind, he was visibly amused.

'You're not mad? I feel like such a bad boyfriend.'

Kurt grimaced, but Blaine only extended his hand to put it over Kurt's.

'I'm not mad.' A thought entered his mind and a mischievous smile arched his lips. 'But you can make it up to me.'

'How?'

'You can promise to take me here to coffee every March 15th from now on. I really love this place.'

Kurt smiled in response.

'Deal.'

* * *

It felt strange to be there alone. The ten last 15ths of March they spent holding hands over the tiny round tables and warming themselves up with the delicious coffee. Always together. It was their special place for that particular anniversary. Kurt had never went there alone. It just felt wrong.

He shifted uneasily in his seat. The café hadn't changed in the slightest; it was still the same cosy, brownish interior it had been that chilly afternoon ten years ago. The coffee was still great, the cheesecake as tasty as ever.

But somehow he barely ate a bite, and kept stabbing the defenseless dessert with his fork. His coffee was getting cold, and he still could hardly raise the cup to his lips.

His thoughts were wandering to those good old times and to the letter Blaine had left him for today.

_Darling, darling Kurt,_

_You didn't forget, right? You do remember, what happened on March 15__th__ thirteen years ago?_

_Gosh, I have no idea why it took me so long to realize what you meant to me. But that day has been one of the happiest of my life. Even though I felt so silly at first, I kind of expected you to laugh. I know you would never do that, but, well, I was never much experienced in getting boyfriends. Especially considering that you were my only boyfriend._

_Anyhow, I don't want you to abandon our tradition of celebrating this anniversary. And as I've said several times already, I want you to get out of the house, at least from time to time. So go to our March 15__th__ café, and order the usual. You know I wish I could accompany you, right?_

_And remember, you were my only boyfriend, but it doesn't mean I want to be _your_ only boyfriend. Or your only husband. I'm not saying you should marry right now. I just want you to know I have no objections. You deserve happiness more than anyone else in the world._

_I love you,_

_Blaine._

Kurt repeated Blaine's words in his mind, and shook his head infinitesimally. No, it was too early to even consider dating again. He couldn't even picture himself dating anyone else. Blaine was the love of his life, his soul mate, his best friend, his lover, his husband, his support system… How could anybody replace all that?

'Excuse me?,' a voice said somewhere to his left, startling Kurt out of his reverie.

A dark-haired man in his late twenties was standing next to Kurt's table, eyeing him curiously.

'Yes?,' Kurt asked, trying not to be rude.

'Are you Kurt Hummel? I thought I recognized you from some _Vogue_ feature or something,' the man said.

'Yes, that's me.' He forced a quick smile, hoping to satisfy the man's interest.

'Oh, it's such a pleasure to meet you. Alan Bland.' He extended his hand for Kurt to shake.

Kurt took the man's hand, still fighting the urge to tell him to get lost.

'I'm such a fan of your designs!,' Alan kept prattling on. 'That last fall/winter collection was incredible.'

'Thank you,' said Kurt, in the hope to end the conversation.

'Is there by any chance any vacancy in your company? I graduated from Parsons, and that would be such an honour to work for you.'

It crossed Kurt's mind that work wasn't the only objective Alan had in mind. The guy's eyes seemed to be devouring Kurt's face and body in a completely different way. Or maybe it was just the consequence of Blaine's latest letter making his brain imagine things?

'I'm afraid I don't have any vacancies now, sorry.' An apologetic smile appeared for a second on Kurt's face.

And then Kurt picked up his cup with his right hand, taking a long sip of coffee. The scanty, dimmed light of the café glinted off the surface of two simple rings – a silver engagement ring and a white gold one that Kurt had never removed from his middle finger since the day he and Blaine got married. The thin vertical line made of microscopic diamonds on the wedding band sent multicoloured specks of light into the air.

Alan caught sight of the rings, and his frame shrank a little.

'Well, then, enjoy your cake. And it was really nice to meet you.'

With a last nod at Kurt, he went away.

And Kurt looked down at his right hand. He felt as if the rings had been a part of who he was as much as the finger they encircled.

But he was alone now. And someday those rings will no longer belong there.

But not yet. Not yet.

* * *

**A/N:** Hope no tissues were needed this time around! Next update on Tuesday!


	13. Letter 13: April 6th

**Letter 13: April 6****th**

_I still remember the sun_  
_Always warm on my back_  
_Somehow it seems colder now_

_(Evanescence – _Field of Innocence_)_

Kurt was standing at the edge of water in front of the Doges Palace, waiting for Blaine to finish his photographing spree around Piazza San Marco. Kurt had already seen everything he wanted to see in the square and was now enjoying the warmth of Italian sun on his skin, mixed with the cool breeze blowing from over the water. He closed his eyes; if not for the millions of tourists buzzing around Venice, he would consider the place heaven.

Then somebody's arms encircled his waist and he jumped up startled. But the chin resting on his shoulder and the brush of gelled-down hair on his ear told him it was just his husband.

'It's beautiful, isn't it?,' Blaine asked, looking ahead at the slightly bluish silhouettes of San Giorgio Maggiore and Giudecca.

'It is,' replied Kurt, once again closing his eyes.

'Then why are you standing here and not looking?' Blaine's lips touched Kurt's cheek gently.

'I like the sun. And the wind. It's all so nice.'

Blaine chuckled, hugging Kurt more tightly.

'The Rialto Bridge?'

Kurt opened his eyes reluctantly, and nodded, slipping out of Blaine's embrace and taking his hand instead.

They picked their way through the bustling crowd in Piazza San Marco, passed the basilica, and started squeezing past other tourists in the narrow streets and tiny romantic bridges. Following the charming little alleys, they ended up at a square in front of another old church by one of the channels. Forced to take a moment's break to study the map, they didn't mind it in the slightest. As long as they were wandering around Venice together, nothing could diminish their mood.

After finally reaching the Rialto Bridge, they agreed it was a disappointment; it was crowded and severely overrated, stalls bending under tones of cheap made-in-China souvenirs were everywhere.

Sundown found them in a gondola drifting down the Grand Canal. They pointed to each other the landmarks they have already covered in the last two days of their random trips around the city. They exchanged loving looks, and subtle romantic kisses, to the disgruntlement of their gondolier, who tried not to turn his gaze in their direction.

But they didn't care. Nothing could spoil this trip for them.

* * *

That night Kurt thought he could live in Venice. His gaze was fixed on the open window that looked over the Grand Canal, while Blaine was snuggled behind him, holding him close to his own body. They had peace and quiet, and could be doing anything. But they chose to spend this night cuddling innocently. The town renewed their romantic sides.

'I could stay here forever,' Kurt muttered, breaking the silence.

'But you hate the tourists.'

Kurt shrugged a little.

'I'd ban them from coming. Or I'd let them come for two hours of sightseeing a day. And then, we'd have all those bridges and streets to ourselves.'

He twisted his head to plant a short kiss on Blaine's mouth.

'We'll move here someday,' said Blaine, making Kurt's lips curl into a wide beaming smile.

* * *

Kurt shivered, sticking his hands into his coat's pockets. It all felt so strange. The view from the edge of Piazza San Marco was as beautiful as ever. The glistening waters between the Piazza and San Giorgio Maggiore reflected the spring sun the same way it did five years prior, causing Kurt to close his eyes, just like then.

But his eyelids fluttered open a few seconds later. He squinted in the dazzling sunlight.

It seemed colder, less friendly, less pleasant as it had then. The wind coming from the bay tore at his clothes and hair, instead of coming in caressing gusts like that one time before.

And then, there was nobody to come and grab him in a hug.

And there was nobody to share the bed at the same old hotel by the Grand Canal.

Kurt insisted to take the same room as five years ago, even though it was a double. He didn't care about the extra costs. It was a streak of luck that the room was empty anyway. If he believed in a higher power, he'd consider it a sign. But he only thought of it as a happy coincidence.

Until the moment he entered the room, his hastily packed suitcase in hand, and turned around to send Blaine a smile. And realized there was no one behind him.

Because now he was alone.

He felt as if a someone thrust their hand inside his chest and squeezed his heart, barely letting it beat on. The tormented muscle struggled to pump the blood, but the pain was so overwhelming, it felt ready to give way and stop fighting.

Slamming the door behind him, Kurt slumped onto the bed and curled into a ball. Silent, choked sobs shook his frame. His lungs began to burn, as the oxygen they were getting was barely enough for him not to suffocate.

Kurt fumbled in his pockets, all the while fighting for a breath. And when his fingers locked on the already creased envelope, he managed to catch a gulp of air.

He didn't open the letter, he didn't need to. He'd been rereading it over and over again on the plane.

The decision to come here again was the most impulsive thing he'd ever done in his life. He didn't even know what the purpose was. He just felt like he _had to_ do it.

* * *

_Darling, darling Kurt,_

_Do you remember our trip to Venice? It's been four years, almost to the day. I was just cleaning up my laptop, and stumbled upon all the pictures we took. Or, more accurately, I took._

_Those were amazing two weeks, don't you think? Some of my favorite memories are from that short time._

_Do you remember that one night, when it started raining, but you refused to go back to the hotel, and you grabbed me and kissed full on the mouth in the pouring rain on some teensy bridge? And then you said you always wanted to get to kiss the love of your life in the rain, like Allie and Noah in _The Notebook_. I love how huge a romantic you are._

_I wish we could move there, just like you wanted. But with everything that's going on… I'm so sorry I can't keep my word. I wish I could. Living in Venice with you would be heaven._

_No, I changed my mind. Living with you is heaven. I don't need anything else. And in a way I'd like you to think the same. But then, I wish you to just live. Be it with or without me._

_And when I'm gone, you'll have these letters, and those memories. We'll always have Venice._

_I love you,_

_Blaine._

* * *

**A/N:** Um, updating today, because I don't know if I'd manage to do it tomorrow.

And sorry, if any of you broke into tears again. I basically had to curl into a ball myself for a moment to contain my feels after I proofread the chapter one more time. And I knew exactly what I'd written, so don't think it doesn't make me terribly sad, too.

And feedback is always highly appreciated! Thanks for reading, guys!


	14. Letter 14: April 28th

**Letter 14: April 28th**

_In my field of paper flowers_  
_And candy clouds of lullaby_  
_I lie inside myself for hours_  
_And watch my purple sky fly over me_

_(Evanescence – _Imaginary_)_

Kurt sniffled, wrapping himself more tightly in a blanket in front of the lit fireplace. He was shivering all over, despite the heat that filled the house. Outside, the weather was wonderfully springy; the sun was shining brightly, birds chirruped happily, and only the nasty, powerful wind seemed out of place, bending the freshly green branches of trees all around New York City.

'Is it even possible to catch a cold in late April?,' Kurt moaned, reaching for another Kleenex.

A chuckle echoed in the kitchen.

'Yes, honey, it is.' Blaine emerged into the living room carrying a large, steaming mug in his hand. 'One double honey and lemon very hot tea.'

Kurt sent him a grateful little smile and extended his hand to take the mug.

'Careful, it really is hot,' warned Blaine.

Handling the mug gingerly in his still trembling fingers, Kurt glanced at him with a playful twinkle in his eyes.

'Not as hot as my husband.'

Blaine let out a heartfelt laugh.

'Well, I guess we can establish once and for all that you're not sick. You're talking sense.' He sat next to Kurt on the sofa, putting his arm around his husband's blanket-covered shoulders.

'You're going to get sick, too.'

'It's not the flu, it's just a teensy little cold. I'm gonna be just fine.' He leaned to kiss Kurt's unhealthily hot cheek. 'But next time, please, take a scarf.'

Kurt rolled his eyes at him.

'I thought it was warmer,' he said defensively. Another sudden shiver shook his body. 'But I'll remember now. Scarves.'

Blaine nodded, getting up from the sofa.

'Good. Don't even think I'm always going to be here to nurse you.'

Almost spilling his tea in the process, Kurt grabbed a cushion and threw it straight at Blaine's belly.

* * *

The view of Blaine bent over the toilet was one of the worst in Kurt's life. He kept on trying to convince himself it was just a food poisoning that would pass in a day, but he failed at each and every attempt. There was no way to forget that it all was a side-effect of the chemotherapy. The chemotherapy that wasn't really going to work. Not well enough to save Blaine, anyway. It was just delaying the sentence. From six to twelve months if they were lucky.

The feeling of helplessness crept over Kurt, urging him to do something, _anything_ to ease Blaine immense discomfort. The chemo made him irritable, implacably nauseous and increasingly exhausted. And it was just the first round of the treatment.

Kurt extended his hand to stroke Blaine's hair, but as soon as his fingers combed through the tangled curls, he knew something was wrong. He jerked his hand up, realizing in horror that streaks of his husband's hair stayed between his fingers.

Even though he'd known all along this would happen sooner or later, it was still astonishing and horrifying.

And it made him feel even more helpless.

* * *

Whenever Blaine had chemo, Kurt would drive him to the hospital and sit in that sad room across from him, reading out the juicier bits from TMZ or talking to him about unimportant things; anything to keep his mind as far away from the chemicals dripping into his bloodstream as possible.

It rarely worked without a hitch, but Blaine appreciated the effort. He kept telling Kurt he didn't have to tag along every single time, but he wouldn't listen.

'In sickness and in health, remember?,' he would say, and discussing the matter any further was pointless.

* * *

Kurt had been turning the letter in his fingers for a good while. His morning coffee had long since gone completely cold, and he still couldn't get himself to open the envelope.

The stack of letters in the red box was growing thinner and thinner, and it seemed to Kurt he was running out of them much too fast. Weren't they supposed to help him deal with the situation? With his life? And he still missed Blaine as much as the day of his death.

He sighed heavily, before finally ripping the paper open.

_Darling, darling Kurt,_

_I know I've been a pain in the ass, with the constant fatigue, puking all the time, and the seizures. You have to be fed up with that. And going to chemo with me has to be so depressing, too._

_But you never complain. I haven't heard a single word from you about it. Somehow, you're still able to make me forget about everything, even when I have an IV needle in my arm, and everything smells like hospital. You drag me into a perfect little world, where there is just you and me, and a dewy meadow of lilacs. Even if it's for just a few minutes, it helps so much more than all the crap they've been pouring into my veins all these months._

_I know what you want to say right now. "In sickness and in health." I just wish we didn't have to check, whether we were serious by fighting an unconquerable cancer. I'd prefer we could stick to hot teas and colds._

_There was also another part in the vows: "Till death do us part." But I believe there is nothing that could really part us now. You're as much in my bloodstream as my blood cells and the damned chemo stuff. We will never be truly separated. No matter what happens, I believe I'll still be there, somewhere underneath your skin. Or maybe I'm just flattering myself by thinking that._

_But you're the best husband anyone could ever wish for, so make someone as happy as I am now, when I am gone. I'm saying it one more time: you shouldn't be alone._

_I love you,_

_Blaine._

* * *

**A/N: **Shortish one, I know, sorry for that.

Anyhow, thanks for reading, despite the tears and sadness!


	15. Letter 15: May 27th

**Letter 15: May 27****th**

_So wide the world_  
_Can love remember how to get me home to you_  
_Someday_  
_We'll be together again_  
_All just a dream in the end_

_(Evanescence – _Together Again_)_

Kurt couldn't decide what was more pleasurable: snuggling on the couch with Blaine, while the rain rapped angrily at the windows, or watching _West Side Story _for a thousandth time and shedding a river of tears at the end without shame or remorse. Blaine wasn't crying, sure that Kurt had already cried enough for the both of them, and kept on stuffing his mouth with popcorn.

As the credits started, Kurt was still sniffling into a Kleenex.

'Do you remember the McKinley version of _West Side Story_?,' asked Blaine.

Kurt raised his puffy eyes at his husband, smiling slightly.

'Of course. Richard Beymer wasn't half as good as you were as Tony.'

'Yeah, but I don't have a Golden Globe nomination to show for it,' Blaine chuckled in response. Then his tone became serious again. 'Do you know what Rachel told me right before we went on stage the opening night?'

'Hm?' Kurt laid his head down on Blaine's shoulder, inhaling his scent.

'That we could play Tony and Maria, because we both knew what it's like to have a soul mate.'

The corners of Kurt's lips arched up.

'I suppose she was right. Considering how marvelous you both were.' He looked into Blaine's eyes. 'Especially you, of course.'

'Of course.'

He planted a kiss on Kurt's lips, but his husband pushed Blaine gently away to be able to speak.

'Do you know what _I_ remember about that opening night?' Mischievous sparkles danced in his eyes, as he reached to unbutton Blaine's shirt.

* * *

This year May 27th Kurt had dubbed the worst birthday ever a long time before the day actually came.

Every time anyone mentioned his birthday, he shushed them, forbidding to speak of it again. But all of his friends and co-workers understood that he still hadn't truly recovered from his loss, so they obeyed. Presents were banned, and so were parties, cakes and cards.

Because if he saw all those cards and presents, he would automatically start searching for those from Blaine, before it would strike him that there are none to be found.

It surprised even him how long it was taking him to get used to the idea of Blaine being gone. When his mother died, it took a couple of months to accept it. Even though he would still, years later, wake up thinking she'd walk into his room to kiss him on the forehead and tell him to come for breakfast.

And then, that stopped too, because there was another person to kiss him in the mornings. But now he was gone as well. Getting over that a second time was bound to be tougher.

So when the dreaded birthday came, Kurt had just one thing to open: another of Blaine's letters. He could barely stop himself from ripping the envelope earlier; he'd gotten used to a letter every two or three weeks. Waiting for another for a whole month was unbearable. His fingers ached for it every time he looked at the red box, sitting now on top of his own desk.

But he resisted the urge until the morning of the 27th, when he sat down in front of the cursed box.

His hands trembled as he lifted the lid; he had no idea why that would be. There was nothing to be anxious about. But the trembling was there, and his heart hammered against his ribs, nauseating.

He finally managed to open the envelope and flatten out the piece of paper it was hiding. His insides clenched, as he seen just one line written in the middle of the page.

_Look back into the envelope. Don't be disappointed just yet._

Hastily, he grabbed the envelope, looking for whatever it was Blaine left for him inside. A tiny black rectangle caught his eye.

It was a flat microscopic flash drive.

Intrigued more than by any other of Blaine's letters, Kurt stuck the drive into his laptop. Only one file was saved on it. A video file.

A second later it was already playing.

Their living room. It seemed like the middle of the day, because the only artificial light was the standing lamp right next to the piano. The camera must have been placed on top of the instrument, as its lens was set directly on Blaine face. A tired face, surrounded by millimeter long hair, barely starting to grow out again after the last round of chemo, with enormous, purple bags under the eyes.

Kurt's heart ached at the sight. He wished he could keep the image of a healthy, smiling Blaine, with those outrageous curls and absurd triangle eyebrows.

'Hi, honey,' said Blaine on the screen, beaming almost as happily as in the good old days. 'I wish I could do this in person, but… Well, we both know I can't. But I wanted to wish you a happy birthday anyway. And all the next happy birthdays, too. I don't think I could record a video for you to watch on all of those. That would take up too much energy, and obviously, I don't have much of that lately. And you're going to live a long life after I'm gone, so that would have to be _a lot _of videos.'

Blaine's eyes dropped onto the keyboard, as he slid his fingers over the ivory.

'Just listen to the song.'

Kurt froze, taking in every detail of Blaine's face, shoulders, voice… The music started, and he recognized it in an instant.

_There's a place for us_

_Somewhere a place for us…_

Before he knew it, streams of salty water were flowing down his face, and dripping from his chin. The music ended and the tears didn't cease.

'I know you don't believe we'll meet again. But I hope that we will. It's just too hard for me to believe there is nothing beyond this,' he waved at the room. 'Maybe there is a place for soul mates to be reunited after death. I like to think there is.' He smiled weakly at the camera. 'So try to think that too. We're going to meet again, honey. I love you, remember that.'

* * *

**A/N:** Only 5 chapters left! That's totally unbelievable!

Again, thanks for reading, and sorry for the sadness!


	16. Letter 16: June 16th

**Letter 16: June 16****th**

_Should I lock the last open door_  
_My ghosts are gaining on me_

_(Evanescence –_ All That I'm Living For_)_

The cab left Kurt at the sidewalk by his house with two enormous suitcases seated next to him. He looked up at the building, relishing the feeling of being home. Finally. He always enjoyed fashion weeks, but this time he couldn't wait to get out of Milan. Going there alone was simply no fun at all.

He somehow managed to persuade Blaine not to pick him up from the airport. After a week's absence, he was more comfortable saying hello to his husband in the privacy of his own home, especially considering that he didn't foresee much talking being involved.

Kurt picked up his suitcases and started up the front steps to the door.

When he pushed the door open, an unexpected smell reached his nostrils; someone was apparently cooking. Astonished, he left the suitcases by the threshold and directed his footsteps into the kitchen.

'Honey, I'm home,' he called in a sing-song voice on the way.

A smiling Blaine ran out, wiping his hands on the apron he was wearing.

'Hi!' He kissed Kurt on the lips. 'You're going to have to wait for dinner a little bit longer.' He smiled apologetically at a dumbstruck Kurt.

That was not exactly the welcome he was expecting.

'Blaine, are you _cooking_?,' he asked.

'Yeah, I'm making roast veal, just like you taught me,' Blaine replied, turning around and walking back to the kitchen.

Kurt shook his head in disbelief, but followed his husband. The smell was, indeed, very pleasant. And so was the gesture. But he simply expected something else.

He walked up to Blaine, who was busy chopping up vegetables and throwing them into a salad bowl. Kurt put his chin on Blaine's shoulder.

'Hm?,' Blaine muttered.

'Nothing,' said Kurt, putting his lips to Blaine's neck.

Blaine rolled his eyes, trying to slip away from Kurt's grasp.

'Hey! Let's be civilized tonight.' He turned around to face Kurt. 'First dinner, then… other pleasures.' He pecked Kurt on the lips and went back to his vegetables.

* * *

Kurt was standing in front of his house, suitcases stacked next to him on the sidewalk, reminding him of a similar moment three years earlier.

This time, however, nobody was waiting on the other side of the door, meticulously preparing a fancy dish for dinner, or sprinkling rose petals and lighting up candles in the bedroom, like then. There was no romantic dinner or passionate night to follow. This time is was just an empty, quiet building.

But for the first time since October, Kurt was coming home fully aware there was no one to come home to. As painful as it was for him, Kurt was thankful for that feeling. Because in a strange way it made him feel as if his life wasn't over after all; a great part of it, a wonderful love story was being slowly moved into the box labeled _past_. He wasn't saying goodbye to it, he could never do it. He simply felt a little closer to being able to say that he had put himself more or less back together.

Kurt gathered his luggage from the sidewalk and went to the front door. Just like then, but so _unlike _then. He inhaled deeply, before unlocking the door.

The quiet, for the first time in months, didn't feel like a void sucking in all the surrounding happiness. It was simply peacefulness. The silence of a house that was left empty for a week, the only sound the distant humming of the refrigerator.

Leaving his bags in the middle of the hall, Kurt slouched into one of the living room sofas. His eyes fell on the grand piano in front of him. And he smiled.

* * *

_Darling, darling Kurt,_

_You're probably somewhere in between Paris and Milan right now. Busy with the fashion weeks and all that, as always._

_I was just thinking about that time, when you had to go to Milan on your own, because I got held up by work. We were already married for almost seven years, and that was the first time I ever cooked you dinner. I feel slightly ashamed of that. (Although I've always been the one to do the laundry, so let's call it even.)_

_Anyway, I really enjoyed that reunion. Especially the second part. And I know you enjoyed that, too. It might have not been a dewy meadow of lilacs, but that was the best I could manage in the middle of New York City. And we didn't set anything on fire, despite your great fears! Though, you have to admit, that was indeed a _very_ hot night._

_I wish I could cook you a welcome home dinner this year. And serve you the same dessert as last time._

_And I hope you smile, when you think of me. I'd hate to think you have a sad face when you do._

_I love you,_

_Blaine._

* * *

**A/N:** This is probably the shortest chapter I've ever written. Hopefully a little bit of fluff and optimism is enough for you to forgive me for that.


	17. Letter 17: July 19th

**Letter 17: July 19****th**

_Do you wonder _  
_Why you hate? _  
_Are you still too weak to survive your mistakes? _

_(Evanescence – _Sweet Sacrifice_)_

After the few years of living in New York, Lima seemed to them unbelievably peaceful. It continued to live at a slow measured pace, incomparable to the rush of the city. They were strolling along the familiar streets, just as they used to back in high school. Only then they kept their hands cautiously away from each other, and no rings glinted on their fingers.

Kurt could feel curious looks following them as they wandered around town. He didn't feel alarmed; of course, Lima natives didn't get to see many gay couples holding hands in the streets, but it's 2015, for crying out loud.

They reached the Lima Bean; the coffee shop seemed not to have changed much since the few weeks Kurt had spent working there as a barista. The aprons looked exactly the same as the one he used to wear.

'The usual?,' Blaine asked, smiling at Kurt as they stopped at the end of the line.

'The usual.' Kurt smiled back.

Their hands broke their grasp to take care of paying and picking up their coffee and sugar.

Once at the table, Blaine extended his hand to take Kurt's one more time.

'Do you remember this one time when we were here after I came back from Nationals in New York?,' Kurt asked, a tiny smile forming on his face.

Blaine pretended to have to think hard to recall that day.

'Was it when I first told you I loved you?,' Blaine asked, faking uncertainty.

'Bingo,' Kurt giggled.

Blaine leaned over the table to give Kurt a peck on the lips. Just a little affectionate smooch.

They managed to keep up the happy romantic mood for another full minute of longing gazes, when a highly embarrassed barista came up to their table and cleared his throat to get their attention.

'Yes?,' Kurt asked, lifting his eyes at the lanky blond-haired fellow.

'Another customer,' he waved vaguely at a bulky balding man at a table to his right, 'complained about your… behaviour. And asked me to tell you to… behave appropriately.' He paused, a deep scarlet blush blooming on his cheeks. 'He said it was supposed to be a family-friendly place-'

Blaine's jaw dropped, Kurt's eyebrows shot up to the middle of his forehead. Both simultaneously looked in the direction indicated by the barista; the originator of the complaint was watching the situation closely.

Kurt didn't waste much time on consideration. He got up to his feet and crossed the few meters' distance briskly, stopping in front of the balding man and crossing his arms over his chest.

'Excuse me, do you have a problem with me and my husband?,' he asked, keeping his seething rage in check.

'Are you a woman to have a husband?,' responded the man.

Kurt had to bite down on his lip and dig his fingernails in his palms to keep himself civil. It was no use to lose his temper and get himself in trouble over hateful ignorance.

'You may have your narrow-minded opinions, if you like, but in _some states_ bigots and ignorant people like you do not get to make rules anymore.'

A malicious smile crept on the man's face, as he stood up to face Kurt, who gulped, seeing exactly how much bigger the man was than himself.

'So you go and take _your husband _back to those queer states.'

Kurt nodded, pursing his lips.

'I will, eventually. I definitely much prefer those places where I can show affection towards the person I _love_ and _am married to_, without being harassed by hateful morons.'

He turned around, heading back to their table.

'Come on, Blaine, we're leaving.'

Blaine was already prepared to go and handed Kurt his cup of coffee.

And they went out, each holding his coffee cup in one hand and his husband's hand in the other. Ignorance couldn't touch them.

* * *

_Darling, darling Kurt,_

_Have I ever told you how grateful I am to you for giving me courage? I know that it all began with me telling you to have courage, but I don't know, if you realize how much you helped me to become braver over the years._

_After the Sadie Hawkins incident I wanted to stay off the radar, keep a low profile and hide from everyone who could hurt me. I was a complete coward who pretended to be tough, because there was no way of going back into the closet. But, you, honey, you taught me to embrace who I was and not be afraid. You taught me to be strong and fight the ignorance and hate with civility, always taking the high road._

_Without you, I could never be who I am now. I really believe you made me a better man in some way._

_And I'm glad that no matter how we were harassed, we always had each other's backs, showing those bullies they couldn't get to us._

_I guess there's nothing that could ruin a love like ours._

_I love you,_

_Blaine._

* * *

A knock on the door jerked Kurt out of his reverie. He stumbled to his feet and jumped over the stacks of old photographs to get to the door.

'You could have let yourself in,' he said, turning away from the door and making way for Rachel to get in.

'And hello to you, too.'

She scanned the living room floor with her gaze, surprised. Kurt seemed to be doing better and better with each passing week, but she was still concerned and kept on checking on her best friend. There was no way of telling if the hundreds of smiling Kurts and Blaines in the pictures scattered all over the floor were a good or a bad sign.

'Are you like- tidying up or something?,' she asked pointing the photographs.

Kurt waved his hand dismissively.

'No, I was just reminiscing.' He smiled at her, before leaping to a small stack of pictures by the sofa. 'Oh, look what I found!'

He flicked through the photos until he got to the one he had in mind, and passed it to Rachel.

'Our junior prom! I didn't even remember this photo was taken, with me in that crown!'

Kurt, Blaine and Rachel's faces filled the entire frame, smiling widely, as they all pointed their fingers at the headdress resting on Kurt's perfectly coiffed hair.

Rachel looked up at Kurt, her eyes shining with tears despite the beaming smile her lips arched into.

'Hey, what's wrong?,' Kurt asked, seeing a lonesome drop falling slowly from the corner of her eye.

She shook her head, wiping her cheek with the back of her hand.

'Nothing, Kurtie. I'm just happy you're back.'

She wrapped her arms tightly around him in a hug. No explanations were necessary.

* * *

**A/N:** Hope there wasn't much crying this time!


	18. Letter 18: August 23rd

**Letter 18: August 23****rd**

_All I wanted to say was I love you and I'm not afraid_

_(Evanescence –_ My Last Breath_)_

'Cold feet?,' Burt Hummel asked his son, as Kurt was peeking into the room packed full of wedding guests.

Kurt turned around, rolling his eyes at his father. They were both wearing classic black tuxedos, Kurt with a pink carnation in his lapel – identical to the flower in Blaine's, and to those at his junior prom at McKinley High.

'Absolutely not,' he said, smoothing out his tux jacket. 'I've been waiting for this day my whole life, I'm not going to chicken out. Not so sure Blaine isn't, though.'

He bit his lip, his forehead creasing in worry.

Burt smiled gently, putting an arm around his son's shoulders.

'Come on, he's crazy about you. You'll be after your I dos in no time.' He paused, as Kurt nodded vigorously. 'Ready?'

Initially, the plan was that both Kurt and Blaine be led to the altar by their fathers. But Mr Anderson had refused to give Blaine away at the altar, calling the idea ludicrous, which hurt Blaine and angered Kurt. It was then decided that Burt would walk his son to his fiancé and the minister, as he saw nothing wrong with it whatsoever. He was as proud as ever to be Kurt's father.

Mr and Mrs Anderson showed up, though unwillingly, and were now sitting in the first row, somewhat uncomfortable. They barely knew anyone from amongst the guests, even though the boys had taken care to invite only close friends and family, which made up the relatively small group of about fifty people.

Cooper was sitting next to his parents, but unlike them, he was beaming at his little brother, flashing his ridiculously white teeth.

Seeing the smile on his brother's face made Blaine feel a little bit better. Although he knew exactly what was going to happen and that Kurt would definitely say "I do" without as much as a second's delay, he was still truly anxious about the whole ceremony. The palms of his hands were sweaty and he was beginning to fear the ring would slip from his finger once Kurt puts it on.

Finally, the door at the end of the aisle opened, causing all heads to turn in that direction. Kurt couldn't help but smile as he saw the beautifully decorated room, with the pale pink and white roses adorning all the benches, and – most of all – his fiancé standing in front of the altar with a sheepish disbelieving smile on his face.

* * *

They were swirling on the dance floor, _Teenage Dream _bursting out of the speakers, Rachel beaming as she was singing their song. Their smiles hadn't faded even for a fracture of a second since they exchanged their I dos, both finally relieved that the other didn't change his mind in the last minute. They were husbands, they were more in love than ever before, and practically exploding from all the happiness.

Their friends and the Hudson-Hummels watched them with similar grins on their faces, thinking – without exception – that they were the most beautiful couple in the entire world and that they were simply meant to be. There was nobody who could make Kurt happier than Blaine could, and vice versa. The Andersons were sitting at one of the front tables, shifting uncomfortably as they watched the other guests; they were nowhere near as happy about this wedding, and no one would be able to persuade them Kurt was the only one for their son or that the newly married couple was beautiful at all. They were Republicans from start to finish, and no matter how many states had gradually introduced marriage equality, they still resented the idea of their gay son getting married legally. They had managed to accept the situation enough to be civil to Kurt, but weren't thrilled to be able to call him their _son-in-law_.

The song came to a close, and the newlyweds stopped dancing in the middle of the dance floor. Kurt rested his forehead on Blaine's, closing his eyes and relishing the moment.

'You really are a dream to me, you know?,' he breathed, before opening his eyes and planting a kiss on his husband's lips.

'And you to me,' Blaine answered, as he led them back to their table.

As they were sitting down, a clink of metal on glass pierced the room. Finn stood up, raising his glass of champagne and facing the happy couple with a huge grin plastered on his face.

'A few years ago I was an only child,' he began, looking straight at his step-brother. 'But then my Mom met Burt, and I got a brother. And I have to say, I really used to like not having siblings. Until I got Kurt for a brother. Nothing can be better than having a brother like you, Kurt.' The corners of Kurt's lips arched even higher. 'I've learnt so much from you, bro, and I'm so happy to be here now, as your best man at your wedding, being able to call you my brother.'

Finn paused for a moment, as he turned his gaze to Blaine.

'I used to be an only child for most of my life. Then I got Kurt, and now… Now I'm getting another brother. Step-brother-in-law, but still, a brother. You're the best thing that ever happened to Kurt and I know that no one could ever make him happier. So, Blaine,' he raised the glass a tiny bit higher, 'welcome to the family. And don't screw this up.'

The guests chuckled and drank the toast. But Finn didn't sit down, keeping his eyes fixed on Blaine.

'I know, Kurt, you want him all to yourself, but you're gonna have to spare him for a moment,' he spoke again, one corner of his mouth curling higher than the other in a playful smile. 'But I wouldn't miss out on an occasion to dance with both of the grooms.' He paused, stepping away from his table. 'Blaine, bro, may I?'

Finn extended his hand to Blaine, who willingly took it, shaking his head and chuckling under his breath. They went out onto the dance floor as the song began to play. The exact same one as on Carole and Burt's wedding.

Kurt's heart warmed up. And he'd thought it was impossible to be even happier.

* * *

Kurt and Finn were just crossing Central Park on the way to lunch. They had promised each other years ago to always be able to meet for lunch at least once a month, no matter how busy they were. In the months since Blaine's death they never skipped their lunch, even though Kurt was usually absent-minded and would excuse himself with work to leave early. His brother didn't press him to talk about his husband or his grief, knowing that if Kurt wanted to spill his guts, he would do it without obnoxious prodding on Finn's part.

But today, Finn was slightly more worried about his little brother than usually. The tenth anniversary of Kurt and Blaine's wedding wasn't every day, after all.

Three of the old-fashioned carriages passed them on their way through the park. Finn kept on glancing at Kurt furtively, expecting him to burst into tears, or at least look away from the horses and smiling people in the carriages. But instead, he followed each of them with his gaze, a tiny smile arranging his features.

Finn was beginning to think Kurt had suddenly gone crazy, and his concern was growing with each minute.

'Kurt?,' he said finally to draw his attention away from the carriages.

'Hm?' Another carriage appeared in front of them, Kurt's preoccupied smile widening a little.

'Are you all right? You seem a bit- I don't know- strange?'

Kurt frowned, looking at his brother at last. Finn was definitely worried, but Kurt couldn't understand what the reason could be.

'Why would you say that?,' he asked, confused.

Finn averted his eyes, trying to figure out a subtle way to explain the source of his concern. He couldn't find a better way than to say as it was.

'Because it's your- your anniversary. And you're _smiling_.'

The lines on Kurt's forehead deepened; he still couldn't get his brother's point.

'Yeah, so what? It was the happiest day of my life, why wouldn't I be smiling? And those carriages… They look exactly like the one we went from the registry office to the venue in. That one's practically identical!' He pointed at the carriage that was just passing them.

Now it was Finn's turn to be bewildered.

'So… You're alright?'

Kurt smiled faintly.

'Yes, I'm alright.'

And his hand wondered automatically to the letter stacked into his pocket. He really was alright.

* * *

_Darling, darling Kurt,_

_It's such a special day today, it will be even more special when you read this, a year from now. I don't know about you, I never really asked you, but our wedding day was the best, happiest, most perfect, most wonderful, most magical day of my entire life._

_And it's not just about the fact that I got married to the most amazing human being in existence (that'd be you, if you haven't caught on, honey!), I also got a bonus: I got a family._

_You know my parents, my brother, and the few other relatives that would talk to me or them. They never truly felt like family to me. They're just people I happen to share some of my DNA with. I hadn't had a family before I met you. It's you who gave me the feeling of being home, for the first time in my life. And thanks to you I have a group of friends that are so much more than friends, and I love them all, despite their crazy (yes, I mean Rachel. And Santana. And Brittany.)_

_And then, when we married, it all became official; I have a real, loving, caring family. The kind of family I have always wished to have. Burt, Carole, Finn – they are so much dearer to me than my own father, mother and brother._

_And, last but not least, I've had the honor to be your husband for nine amazing years. It pains me to write this, and I suppose you won't be thrilled to read this, but I sort of hope there will be some other guy that you will make as happy as you made me. Someday. Maybe not now. Maybe not for a long time. But you're full of love and kindness, and it would be a shame not to share it with someone worthy of it. Probably more worthy than I ever was._

_But remember, I will be yours forever. Nothing can really separate us, not even death._

_I love you,_

_Blaine._

* * *

**A/N:** Two chapters to go! Hope there was no sad crying this time!


	19. Letter 19: September 26th

**Letter 19: September 26****th**

_So take care what you ask of me_  
_Cause I can't say no_

_(Evanescence – _Good Enough_)_

Blaine entered the apartment, frowning. He was beginning to wonder whether he forgot about a date they'd set up, but couldn't recall anything of the sort. Yet, for some reason, almost every available surface that wasn't the floor was densely stacked with candles of all shapes and sizes, while a blanket was spread over a patch of the wooden flooring. It apparently was meant to serve as a picnic spot, as plates and glasses surrounded a centrally placed slim vase that held a single red rose.

'Hey, you,' Kurt's voice came from the unilluminated kitchen space, causing Blaine to jump up a little.

'Hey,' he smiled, even though his forehead was still furrowed with confusion. 'What's all this?' He motioned towards the carefully prepared indoor picnic.

Kurt took a step in his boyfriend's direction, and Blaine noticed a bottle in his hand.

'Dinner. I'm taking advantage of having this place all to ourselves,' Kurt explained, his gaze wandering somewhere over the floor.

Blaine put his satchel aside, careful not to knock over any of the candles, and sat down on the blanket. He kept watching Kurt as he was dishing out their dinner, and admired his soft movements. Kurt would glance at him from time to time, sending him a little smile, that had an air of being slightly… nervous? Uncertain?

His suspicion there was something more to this surprise date was growing with each minute. And even though it was impossible not to enjoy each of those minutes – the food, the affectionate gazes, the conversation, the occasional kisses – Blaine was starting to wonder what it could mean. But at the same time, he wouldn't let himself think the one reason why Kurt could definitely go to such great lengths, just not to get his hopes up.

The dinner was followed with a chocolate soufflé, which clearly made Kurt incredibly proud of himself. With the first bite, Blaine thought that he had every right to. But before he could finish the dessert something caught his eye in the centre of his small ceramic bowl. He could swear something glinted in the candlelight. His eyebrows pulling together, he stabbed the centre of his soufflé with his spoon. It clank before hitting the bottom.

'Kurt?,' he asked, looking up at his boyfriend. 'Is there something in my soufflé?'

Kurt was strangely silent since the moment he placed the dessert in front of Blaine, and now flushed scarlet, torn between embarrassment and excitement.

'Um, maybe you should check what it is,' he suggested, mumbling.

Still frowning, Blaine pushed his fingers unceremoniously into the soufflé. They grasped at something hard and circular, and resembling… Oh. My. God. He hurriedly jerked his hand out of the brown mass.

Without a doubt, clutched between his thumb and index finger was a simple thin silver ring, caked with chocolate soufflé. Blaine wiped the sweet grime off the ring, revealing an inscription on the inside. It said _Kurt & Blaine_ in a slender fancy font.

'Kurt, is this…?' He raised his eyes at Kurt, words failing him. Somewhere in the back of his mind he was scolding himself for acting like a silly girl in an even sillier movie.

Kurt nodded vigorously, turning paler than ever, horror rising in his expression.

'Will you marry me?,' he blurted out. His heart was beating so hard he was certain Blaine could hear it.

But Blaine was too preoccupied by piecing his thoughts back together into a coherent stream, and pinching himself on the arm with his free hand. He swallowed when it hurt.

'Are you kidding me?,' he choked out, causing Kurt to hold his breath. Seeing his reaction was entirely misunderstood, he added, 'I mean, yes, yes, of course I will!'

Kurt exhaled with a puff, colour returning to his cheeks, and smile to his lips.

'Really?'

'Sure, silly.' Blaine leaned over to grab his new fiancé in a hug and kiss him. 'But I have one condition.'

Kurt shrugged out of the embrace to look at Blaine. He was hoping for no "buts".

'What condition?,' he asked warily.

'I don't want to be one of those couples who get engaged and wait until they both graduate, or until they have a house, or whatever. I want to be your husband as soon as possible.'

Kurt's forehead furrowed, as his mind began to sort through their options.

'I guess we could try and get a spot tomorrow, but I bet Dad would want to be there… And Carole. And Rachel would _kill me_, if she didn't get to be there,' he began.

Blaine chuckled, trying to signal Kurt to stop speaking.

'I don't necessarily mean tomorrow,' he said. 'But maybe let's say we get married within a year. What do you think?'

Relief washed over Kurt, and his face lit up. That prospect was definitely a good one; he'd have enough time to pull off a truly fabulous wedding, and they both deserved that.

'I like that.' He smiled. 'So… In a year you'll be my husband?'

'Definitely.' Blaine slipped the still sticky ring onto his finger.

* * *

Kurt had been standing over the sink for a good five minutes, his eyes only averting from the wedding band held between the tips of his fingers to the engagement ring that was still in its usual place. He was examining every millimeter of the white gold and the silver, every tiny scratch on the surface.

It was curious, eerie even, that the wedding band chose to slip from his finger, almost falling right down the drain and into the New York sewers, on this exact days. As if a supernatural force was behind it. The idea of a divine, or satanic intervention was discarded without a second thought; Kurt never believed in any of this, and he wasn't about to start now. His belief system had been long since established, and if there had ever been a chance of it changing, it definitely wasn't over a ring slipping off his finger.

But it still held him up at the sink, immersed in his thoughts so deeply, the entire world seemed to have stopped turning. It was just Kurt, the rings, and the words of the last letter resounding in his mind as if they weren't written down, but spoken by his husband.

Kurt found it ominous that Blaine chose to say those things on that precise day; obviously, it made sense, as it was the anniversary of their engagement. The contents of the letter hadn't left his mind for even a second since morning, when he had reluctantly, very slowly and carefully, opened the last cream-coloured envelope and unfolded the piece of paper from inside with his eyes squeezed shut.

The handwriting had been growing less and less neat in the last few letters, this time verging on undecipherable.

_Darling, darling Kurt,_

_We all know it's not going to be long now. I can't even express how much I wish I could change this, prolong this even, suffer another year of hospitals and chemo, just so I wouldn't leave you. Or, the more selfish version, so that I could have you by my side just a little bit longer._

_I hope, no, I _know_ you made sure I was buried with my engagement and wedding rings on. If I ever had any wishes about my funeral, it was to be forever marked as yours. Nothing else matters._

_But I don't require you to do the same. You have to go on with your life. I understand that, I would never want you to give up on yourself because of me. So take those rings off, whenever you feel ready. I don't mind. There are so many men that would kill just to be with you, don't keep them away with ties that are no longer. Not in this world, anyway. Because I know that what we have – or should I say had? For you it should be past tense, I guess – goes beyond this world. No matter if there is another one, we are stronger than death, aren't we? And if there is another world to go to when we leave this one, we're going to be bound there, too, I'm sure of that. And I bet rings don't mean much there, do they? We're connected by links that are harder to break than precious metals._

_So don't be afraid to take them off. But only when you're ready. You always have to be ready._

_I love you. I always will._

_Blaine._

Kurt replayed the final words of the letter one more time, and sighed. Carefully, he slipped the wedding band back onto his finger, just above the thin silver engagement ring.

Yes, he was going to take them off. Someday. Just not yet.

* * *

**A/N:** So, this is the penultimate chapter. I'll post the last one on Saturday (around the usual time).

I have to admit, that I got teary-eyed, when I was proofreading this one. And it wasn't the first time. Even though I know exactly what I'd written. I'm such a marshmallow.


	20. Letter 20: Kurt October 18th

**Letter 20: Kurt. October 18****th**

_These days have come and gone_  
_But this time is sweeter than honey_

_(Evanescence – _So Close_)_

The continuous beeping sound of the heart monitor was definitely something Kurt expected. This was something he'd seen in movies multiple times. The theatrical dramatic effect it created was cheesy and pathetic, but now, when it was no screen fiction, it became the worst sound in the universe. He just wanted somebody to switch it off, to make it go away, this blatant proof that Blaine really being gone. He wanted to put his hand over his ears, but couldn't, his hands still firmly grasping one of Blaine's, still warm, as if he was just peacefully asleep.

A nurse finally came to unplug the machines. The beeping ended, but Kurt could still hear it echoing in his mind. Because the reason behind the sound couldn't go away. The painful emptiness that was beginning to fill Kurt's whole body wasn't something he could just switch off.

They tried to cover Blaine's face with a sheet and wheel him out of the room; Kurt didn't let them. Seeing his ghost-like face, paler than it had ever been in his life, they let him stay a little while longer.

He wished he could stay there forever, just holding Blaine's hand, not letting it grow cold. As long as he was there, their skin still touching, he could pretend his world hadn't just fallen apart.

But then they couldn't let him linger any longer. They had to almost tear Blaine's hand out of Kurt's grasp, as he fought for just one more second of this delusive closeness to his husband.

And when the gurney disappeared in the morgue-bound elevator, Kurt collapsed to the floor, broken like a china vase. Nothing could ever piece him together again.

* * *

The day was quite warm for the second half of October. The trees scattered all over the cemetery shined golden and red against the azure sky. A tiny breeze ruffled Kurt's hair as he treaded the infrequently visited path.

It felt strange to come here today. It felt strange to remind himself that it had been a year since his world came crashing down over him. Three hundred sixty six days without Blaine.

But somehow he managed to collect the pieces that Blaine's death had left him. Not all of them, some were gone and irretrievable, yet enough to start and build himself up anew. Nothing was going to be the same. He would never feel the love that he got from Blaine again, and he would never love anyone as much as he loved Blaine.

But then, Blaine was right; life went on, Kurt was still here and he couldn't give up on everything. He had to adapt.

The familiar headstone emerged from behind a few other ones. Kurt's heart felt heavy in his chest, but he ignored the sensation. He had to do this. Maybe it wouldn't make the pain go away in an instant, but maybe it was a way to get over the worst of it.

'Hi, honey,' he said. This time he didn't even feel silly for doing this. 'You left me letters, so I thought I could write you one, too. It's not that I've changed my mind and I believe you're looking down at me from heaven now. I haven't started to believe. But there's still a chance you're going to hear me, right? Who knows… And even if you're really gone, I can imagine you're here, right next to me, with that beautiful smile on your lips, and those amazing eyes of yours sparkling like they always did.'

Saying the words almost convinced him Blaine appeared right there, standing just next to the tombstone, with the exact expression Kurt had envisaged.

He pulled out a simple bluish envelope from his coat's pocket, and produced a piece of paper from inside.

Kurt cleared his throat and began reading aloud.

_My most beloved Blaine,_

_I realize this is probably pointless, but I don't really care about that right now. That's not the point of this letter._

_The last twelve months have been torture. This world seems incomplete without you. My world is without a doubt not whole anymore, and will never be again._

_But then, you were still somehow, vicariously, in my life, through your letters that eased the pain and made me smile when I was forgetting there was such a thing as joy in the world at all._

_Anyway, the real reason why I'm saying all this, is to thank you. You thanked me so many times in your letters, so now a thank you is in order from me._

_You gave me the most precious gift anyone can ever get from another person – an unconditional, unending, ever-supportive, death-conquering love. Many people could say – and have said – that we were doomed, that we married too young, that high-school sweethearts never make it in the "real world". But we did. Because we weren't just any high-school couple, were we?_

_It's so rare for people to meet their soul mate, to get to be with them, to know the kind of love that we shared. And we knew, almost from the beginning, that we were meant to be._

_And I could go around now, moping that all the best things in my life are gone never to come back. But you know what? I'm not going to. I'm going to accept that the happiest time in my life is gone, but I'm never going to forget that I _lived it_. I lived a fairy tale for years, with a handsome knight in shining armor by my side._

_I am _never_ going to stop appreciating that I got to have all this._

_I think I will eventually go on with my life. Maybe even I will find someone to share it with, as you wanted me to. But you will always remain the love of my life. The one and only for me._

_I will never ever stop loving you,_

_Kurt._

With a sigh, Kurt folded the letter again and stuffed it back into the envelope. Then he leaned forward to cram it in between two elements of the tombstone, just to make sure wind wouldn't blow it away.

He could still see his husband standing in front of him. It was comforting, even though Kurt knew it was just a figment of his imagination. The corners of his lips pulled up slightly.

'See you,' he said, Blaine's mouth forming a smile identical to his own.

Kurt turned around, heading back to the cemetery gate.

**THE END**

* * *

**A/N: **Thank you a thousand times, if you stuck around until the very end! It's crazy it's aleady here! And I'm glad you persevered through all the tears and sadness to see it.


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